Ordinary Not

Alaric gazed at Katarina, who presented him with a vintage suit. It was a blend of cotton and had a monochromatic pattern, reflecting Bali's signature style with black on black.

"Woven by the skilled hands of Lembongan Artisans. Tailored by a respected Italiano in Milano," Katarina said, her beauty still radiating from her perfectly white hair. The wrinkles on her face only added to her dignified appearance while Aymard used harsh words to judge Katarina.

"Your grandfather used to wear it for special occasions,"

Alaric responded, his smile mirroring Katarina's. "Merci, Mamie."

Katarina smiled gently, stroking Alaric's shoulder. "Oh, you've grown up. Time flies so quickly."

Alaric chuckled, feeling the softness of the suit against his skin. It was truly comfortable. The craftsmanship of the past artisans was remarkable.

"How's Shafina?"

Suddenly, Katarina asked a question that made Alaric freeze in place.

"What, Mamie?" he replied, his voice faltering.

Katarina smiled mischievously. "Your girlfriend's name is Shafina, isn't it? It's been almost a year since you've been together, and you've never brought her here."

Alaric laughed bitterly, sensing the direction of Katarina's conversation.

"Her family background may be acceptable to Mamie, although Mamie prefers you to be with Andjani."

Alaric's smile faded. He looked deeply into Katarina's eyes.

"What's the matter, Mamie?"

Katarina, on the other hand, flashed a gentle smile, understanding her Beloved Grandson's unease. However, Katarina paid no mind to i, for she believed this was the right time. Alaric restrained himself from raising his eyebrows too high.

"You're turning 28 this year, aren't you?" Katarina inquired.

Alaric nodded slowly, grasping the direction of Katarina's conversation.

"Hurry and introduce Shafina to Mamie," she continued.

Alaric sighed. The situation becoming clearer now.

"Mamie wants to determine if she is worthy of being your companion."

Alaric furrowed his brow again.

"Why did Mamie suddenly agree for me to date Shafina?"

Katarina smiled faintly, impressed by her perceptive grandson.

"Didn't your mother mention that she's searching for information? Who knows, perhaps the heir of Mason Durlach has a daughter."

Alaric nodded. "Yes, that's why I wonder why Mamie isn't supporting Mama this time."

Katarina chuckled softly. "Who says Mamie isn't supporting your mother?" she retorted.

A wry smile formed on Alaric's face.

"Mamie is just giving you a chance. If Shafina doesn't leave a perfect impression, then it's clearly what you should do, right?"

Alaric looked at Katarina. "Does Mamie have a reason for agreeing with Mama?" he asked.

Katarina smiled knowingly. "Mamie only wants what's best for you, Pupone."

Alaric grumbled, "Don't call me that, Mamie. If someone hears, I'll be embarrassed."

Katarina burst into laughter, "Oh, you're still as sweet as before."

Alaric muttered indistinctly, glaring at Katarina. Then a question crossed his mind—a question that had been bothering him since he entered adulthood. It was about why his mother's family treated Aymard so differently. Katarina's expression immediately stiffened when Alaric asked that question.

"Aymard can handle everything well. He is purely a Dirdja while you, my dear, are as beautiful as Magda," Katarina responded.

Alaric fell silent, his heart sinking with a bitter taste. It was the same answer to the same question he asked three years ago. However, this time it felt different. Alaric sensed that the answer was nothing more than an excuse. For some reason, he was questioning the absurdity of that explanation for the first time. Katarina lovingly massaged Alaric's shoulder to fully express her pride in him. But suddenly, the door opened, and Aymard's face appeared.

"Burik! Oh, Mamie's here. Sorry," Aymard exclaimed.

Katarina squinted, "You're still calling Alaric by that derogatory name, Aymard?"

Aymard grinned widely, revealing his perfect row of teeth. Katarina snorted.

"Ah, Mamie, don't be so rigid. Nowadays, everyone calls each other by nicknames."

Katarina made a dismissive gesture, "Never won't a Proust, Aymard!"

Aymard shrugged, "Even two Prousts, Mamie. He usually calls me Mard. So, I respond with 'Burik' just to be fair," he retorted.

Katarina glared, "You truly are something, Aymard! It is highly inappropriate to address your younger brother in such a manner."

Aymard, who had already understood Katarina's temperament, simply chuckled. Then he turned to Alaric,

"Papa is looking for you. Care to guess who will be our esteemed guests of Mamie and Papie?"

Alaric raised an eyebrow,

"Who?"

Aymard smiled widely, his eyes sparkling, and winked, " Mamie, thank you for inviting them."

Alaric was perplexed, as was Katarina.

"Sir Martin Ingmar will be arriving this afternoon. He is currently at Petitenget. Aisha just confirmed it with Papa's assistant."

Alaric's mouth went dry. No wonder Aymard was so cheerful. Katarina furrowed her brow upon hearing a certain name mentioned,

"Aisha? Who is she? Your new lover, Aymard?"

Aymard bestowed a peaceful smile upon Katarina, "Soon to be, Mamie."

Alaric grimaced, "No way, Mardi!"

Katarina looked at Alaric in shock,

"What did you call your brother? Oh my God! What is going on with both of you?!"

Aymard chuckled softly,

"Just relax, Mamie. Aisha is out of Alaric's league, anyway." Aymard chuckled.

"Well, I should hope so!"

"Why?" Katarina asked.

"Because Aisha, the assistant of Durlach, is a divorced single mother of three!" exclaimed Alaric.

Katarina froze for a moment before widening her eyes, "Aymard!" she shrieked in horror.

Aymard looked at Katarina, "Yes, Mamie?"

"Did Alaric say the truth?" she asked.

"What do you mean, Mamie?"

"Oh my God, Aymard! You know well what I mean!"

Aymard laughed, "Yes, Mamie. Alaric wasn't joking with his words."

Katarina stared at Aymard without expression, "Oh God," she muttered in disbelief.

Aymard remained calm, even gently embracing Katarina. He whispered softly,

"Mamie must be very curious. Martin Ingmar confirmed that he will come with someone."

Katarina looked at Aymard, "Really? Hopefully, it's the Heiress we invited."

Alaric squinted as he caught Aymard's playful glance.

"It will be an enjoyable evening, Mamie."

Katarina nodded, "Alright. Mamie will take a rest for a while. Hopefully, the girl is beautiful."

Aymard accompanied Katarina to the door. It took him a moment to gaze at Katarina's back, still walking upright at almost 80 years old.

"Oy, Mardi!"

Aymard turned his head and Alaric glared at him with a sour expression.

"From which angle will this be enjoyable? Don't you know Mamie mentioned that crazy Andjani earlier?"

Aymard smiled widely, "It will still be immensely enjoyable, you know!"

Alaric snorted in disagreement.

"From my perspective, it's undoubtedly going to be delightful," Aymard added.

A pillow flew through the air. Fortunately, Aymard caught it skillfully and swiftly threw it back towards Alaric. Direct hit. It struck Alaric's face, causing him to fall onto the Marakesh stool behind him. Thankfully, he managed to maintain his balance.

"Mardi!"

Aymard chuckled, "You're weak. Alright, hurry up. Papa is calling you."

Alaric looked at him, "What does he want?"

Aymard shrugged, "How would I know? Mama didn't give me time to ask Papa."

Alaric swallowed, "Mardi-"

Aymard glanced at Alaric for a moment, taken aback by his brother's sudden tensed expression.

"Mamie mentioned she wants to evaluate Shafina."

Alaric's voice was barely a whisper and Aymard was almost stirred with compassion upon hearing it.

"Are they planning to discuss my potential partner?"

Aymard smiled broadly, "Go meet Papa and Mama in the Reading Room. It's better than being curious."

Alaric complied. His steps sluggish as he exited the room. Along the corridor, he realized how manipulative his beautiful grandmother Katarina could be. She enticed him with exquisite suits just to make him understand her intentions. Alaric snorted, frustrated with himself for never being astute enough to avoid falling into Katarina's traps. He was indeed the most indulged grandson, but sometimes Katarina expected Alaric to conform to her ideals. Usually, discussing his arranged marriage was not an issue. But this time, the nagging feeling in Alaric's mind was overwhelming.

Firstly, he wondered why both Katarina and Magdeléne seemed to wash their hands of Aymard's matchmaking efforts which were truly worthy of dramatization. Secondly, Alaric had never felt this close to Aymard before. They were biological siblings but they had been separated for extended periods. A year here, two years there, followed by years of schooling in different places. Honestly, seeing Aymard in person was a psychological jolt, completely different from what Alaric had imagined. How could it not be? The people around him always matched his expectations.

Born into wealth, both of them adorned with golden privileges. It was expected that they would attend schools previously chosen by their ancestors. High-class literature was an absolute choice, whether one liked it or not, to ensure that their thoughts and conversations were perfectly calibrated to their ultra-high-end lifestyle. This included their standard temperament and personal tastes. Elegant art, typically classic, was a beautiful plaything that elicited envy. It granted them the legitimate ownership of refined and cultured labels. Prime people. It made others whisper in awe. Criticism borne out of jealousy or sweet words of adoration, it didn't matter. Everything could be measured and predicted for people like them. And Alaric was no exception.

Therefore, encountering Aymard, who was predictable in his work but exhibited highly fluctuating personal tastes, made Alaric ponder. How could Aymard be so contradictory, when for others, such behaviour seemed reasonable and ordinary? The virtues and vices of a person couldn't be expected to fit neatly into one package. Did any normal person think they were inherently good from birth? Perhaps Alaric's nervous system had malfunctioned, to the point where he was only now trying to process such matters as he approached maturity.

And, thirdly, another contradiction: Aisha. A commoner with behavior on par with the blue-blooded elite. Still beautiful with a captivating figure in her waning prime, despite having three children. She captivated Aymard effortlessly, unsettling Alaric's meticulously ordered and measured world, pushing the limits of his insatiable curiosity. Curiosity that led him to interpret as he pleased, judging that the woman was unworthy of Aymard or any man on his level. Status. Alaric was deeply troubled by this, even though he had no idea who defined the worth of a person.

*****