TFOA Chapter 17

'I wanted to talk to you to get permission. In your yard...'

The next day, Auvers village was bustling with festival atmosphere.

Even the painter's house, located in a remote part of the village, could feel that atmosphere.

Benjamin groggily got up from his spot. Noisy sounds were coming through the open window.

'By the way, when did I get home?'

He remember being carried back by someone sturdy. The only person with him was that woman. Could she have been hiding some incredible physical strength...?

Still, what she had said about it not being "cheap wine" seemed to be true—there was no hangover. If anything, his mind felt clearer than usual.

Drawing in the crisp morning air that belonged to dawn, Benjamin let his increasingly lucid thoughts settle and clear.

Somehow, he felt like he could readily use even the unusually bright-colored paints today.

―Knock knock.

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

Few people came to visit his house early in the morning.

Recently, it had been his yellow-haired neighbor. But that neighbor was a lazy bum who only started moving around noon, so that left...

'Gilbert Grace, perhaps.'

He must have come to invite him to participate in the village festival. The diligent village head had come every year with a gentle smile, encouraging him to participate even though he never joined any village festivals.

Sorry, but he had no intention of participating in the festival this time either.

Gilbert said it would be fine, but he might get hit with tomatoes or eggs if he went, so no thank you.

Even if people suddenly changed during festivals and treated him kindly, the festival commemorative vegetable soup they would warmly offer might contain poison.

Benjamin opened the door.

As he expected, Gilbert Grace stood there holding festival tomatoes distributed by the village and an information pamphlet.

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Richter."

For someone saying good morning, Gilbert's expression was subtle. It was a troubled expression, as if he'd seen a flying chicken.

'Why does he look like that?'

Benjamin was about to tilt his head questioningly when his vision caught sight of a massive tree standing prominently in the middle of his yard.

Looking up at it quietly, it wasn't a tree.

The stem was too green to be called a tree. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale...

"...Um... that thing... Niksi planted it yesterday and left. She said she got permission to plant some genetic... something or other beans in Mr. Richter's yard."

'If there's no answer, I'll take that as permission, okay?'

In his yard grew a bean plant as big as a baobab tree.

"It's a bean plant... but it doesn't seem like a normal bean plant, does it? Haha..."

Benjamin held his head.

A hangover that hadn't existed suddenly rushed to his temples.

His yard was completely devastated.

This was supposed to be a bean plant? Were bean plants things that grew this big? Or had he shrunk down to the size of an ant?

His teeth ground together automatically.

"...Where is that girl?"

"She's probably enjoying the festival right about now...? Oh, actually, I came to ask Mr. Richter to come to the festival."

Gilbert tried to brighten the mood with his cheerful words, but it had no effect on Benjamin.

No. That crazy girl had turned someone else's yard into Jack and the Beanstalk and was now leisurely enjoying the festival?

Gilbert smiled brightly with upturned lips and handed Benjamin the tomato and festival pamphlet.

"You'll come, right?"

He had resolved that he would absolutely never leave his house today.

Really, truly.

Benjamin snatched the festival pamphlet.

"...Show me the way."

Auvers village's spring festival was filled with the scent of citrus made up of lemons, oranges, and limes.

Since the village was located in the relatively warm southern region of France, the beginning of spring and the harvest season for all sorts of sour-scented fruits roughly coincided.

Since it was a small village, the festival wasn't anything grand.

People set up wooden planks to use as stalls on the streets, each preparing foods made from winter crops or presenting the first crops newly harvested and gathered this year.

The crops that had weathered winter carried a rich, deeply matured flavor, while the crops freshly harvested this spring had a green, fresh taste—eating them in turns created flavors worthy of food served at much grander festivals.

That's why Gilbert wanted to eat freshly picked tomatoes topped with Mr. Smith's cheese that had survived the cold winter.

Right after stopping by the painter's house!

However, this year, as if cursed, he was being dragged along by the painter's hand, busily moving around to find the reckless new neighbor.

"Mr. Richter. I don't think Niksi would have come to a place like this."

Gilbert said.

Benjamin looked tired after just thirty minutes of walking around the village, like someone who had stayed up all night.

It was good that he came to the village to find Niksi, who had turned his yard into a mess, but his courage wasn't good enough to swagger through the village bustling with festival crowds.

They had been barely circling only the back alleys and finally stopped in front of Raul's bar.

"Then... where is that girl usually?"

"She's probably in the village square. Yesterday she said she'd help make Grandmother Charlotte's brownie stall."

Of all places, the village center.

The noisiest place. Benjamin began to move his reluctant steps.

"Let's go."

"Yes."

It wasn't a day or two thing for the village people to flinch when they saw him, but today their reactions felt particularly tiring and hard to adapt to.

Why was that? Was it because the village was especially lively today and full of all sorts of fresh scents?

Each time, Benjamin realized he was in a place where he shouldn't be.

'Quickly find that girl and restore the yard to its original state...'

"Mr. Richter, would you like some?"

A tomato suddenly appeared in Benjamin's vision as he was thinking absent-mindedly.

Gilbert was holding out a tomato to him while chewing on sprout wraps being distributed from a festival stall.

Looking more closely, he wasn't just chewing on something in his mouth.

When had he swept through the stalls? Gilbert was carrying all sorts of things in one hand.

"No thanks."

"Then how about carrot juice? It's delicious."

"No... no."

"Then please hold this for me. I don't have enough hands."

Gilbert thrust a lemon at Benjamin. It was shameless behavior.

However, as he said, his hands were overflowing with food, so Benjamin had no choice but to accept it reluctantly.

The hard-surfaced lemon smelled more of lemon blossoms than the sour pulp scent.

"Gilbert! Try this too. It's soup made with pheasant caught the day before yesterday!"

"Ahaha, thank you! But I don't have hands right now. I'll stop by on the way back."

As expected of a village head.

Benjamin glanced at Gilbert, who was grinning good-naturedly at people.

This young farmer acted friendly and familiar with everyone he met.

Not only that. The village people were eager to look after him, offering him this and that.

He was different from Benjamin in every way. Benjamin was dark and Gilbert was bright.

Benjamin was someone so far from light, cheerfulness, and brightness that the bright yellow lemon he was now holding was probably the brightest thing among all his possessions.

Benjamin walked along, deliberately ignoring the incidental attention that came with greeting Gilbert.

He had only walked one block to the square.

"Would you like apple-flavored pickled onions?"

"No."

Terrible.

"Then how about shaved ice with lemon and lime?"

"No."

Please stop...

Benjamin's hands were saturated with miscellaneous food items besides the lemon.

Thanks to the meddlesome brown-haired young man.

▶ Someone's harvest:

Vegetable skewers, pumpkin stew, carrot juice, 6 wild strawberries, daffodils, lemon.

▶ Overall assessment:

I want to go home.