The next day, the butler stayed inside the house, while Toren went to a prayer meeting and attended a mass.
As his physical body had been slowly rotting away somewhere already, he did not bother executing the rituals led by the priestess.
During the contemplation phases of the mass, he sincerely prayed for his brother.
Hoping that he could somehow see through his complex brain the condition of his own brother right now.
Toren was badly curious about him already.
Despite the heated rhubarb they had yesterday, he could not easily relinquish his concern and the years they have spent with all those blissful moments.
Giving those things up meant abandoning the little happiness he had always treasured.
It would be a painful experience for him, surely.
But in that current situation, some things should be let go by his own wounded hands to keep what he has left.
When he had returned to the house, Toren was greeted with a surprise because of his mother's presence.
Airen welcomed him home as if nothing had happened at all.
He almost believed that everything else was just a bad dream he woke up from and that she was waiting for him all this time.
However, he soon woke up when his light body had moved.
He was only a ghost now.
"You can see me?" He softly asked her, sitting across.
Airen slowly nodded, almost with a sad frown and held his cold palms. "Of course I can," She said with a graceful smile which crawled up her lips. "You are my son and I am your mother. How can I not see you?"
"But I just died."
"I know. And yet, you are still here in front of me. I am only glad, my dear son, that you have not forsaken the world yet."
"I have things left to do. Like what you have told me."
"Of course. You must stay here for a while until you have accomplished the things you must do. And until then, you stay with me inside this house. Until then, we are together."
Toren suddenly felt guilty for not entering the otherworld last night.
Had he known, he thought, that his mother's reaction would remain as calm and elegant as now, he would have gone to the flower beds and thrown himself to her.
She was always right there, beautifully existing and patiently waiting.
After eating a meal, the mother and son went down to the underground room.
They have explored the walls where the leftover paintings were hanged poorly.
Some of the canvas sheets were run-down and even tattered into pieces.
Airen glanced at those with pity and sadness. "I wish that I could have taken better care of your artworks better," She said. "They would have come out to be more wonderful if only treasured with gentleness."
"It is alright, mother," Toren replied. "I can paint these pictures a thousand times if needed. But mother, your presence and my own life – I can never take them for granted."
Airen smiled at his remark, which she tenderly appreciated, so she decided to do something. "Can you paint me again?" She asked.
Toren's brows furrowed and hesitantly nodded slowly.
"Of course I can. But why? I have already painted you."
"But still... I want you to paint me like this. In this moment. A lot of things changed, but my countenance has remained the same."
"I'll... paint you, mother."
Airen nodded and she sat on the floor gracefully. Toren unknowingly held his breath, unsure of how he should create the image.