Diego brought up something out of the blue. Ribeta raised her head, which had been lowered. When their eyes met, Diego rose from his seat and pulled away the cloth covering one of the easels. Ribeta’s eyes widened.

To be honest, Diego’s painting skills exceeded her expectations. They were indeed worthy of his confident attitude. Though there was one thing that bothered her.

“You seem convinced. If you’ve seen enough, lie down now.”

Diego returned to his seat and patted his knee. Ribeta had no choice but to resign herself. The moment she quietly laid her head on his lap, large hands parted her clothing. Ribeta squeezed her eyes shut.

Soon she vividly felt the sensation of cold paint and soft brush strokes gliding across her skin. Ribeta gripped her own clothing. Her body trembled finely as she held back sounds that kept trying to escape, but there was nothing she could do about that.

“Does it hurt?”

“N…… no. I’m fine.”

Though it might be better if it did hurt.

Ribeta regretted this slightly. If she’d known it would be this method, she would have refused to the end. She’d been blinded by the prospect of removing the brand painlessly, without threat to her life.

But who could have possibly anticipated this? That Diego would lay her across his lap and paint directly over the brand himself.

Diego was silent as he held the brush. Since he hadn’t even heard the knock while sketching, he seemed to become quite absorbed when painting.

Ribeta tried to divert her attention elsewhere to distance herself as much as possible from the strange sensation tickling her back. Like Diego’s unfinished easel, for instance.

But it had little effect. The brush tickling her skin and the touch of cold paint were sensations she simply couldn’t get used to. She’d clenched her hands so hard that her fingertips tingled. The stimulation from the brush was that tremendous. Even though the brand should have dulled her sensitivity, she felt it with peculiar clarity.

Ribeta opened and closed her mouth several times.

She was naturally quiet and preferred silence. On top of that, being beaten by Melissa had made her speak even less. Melissa twisted and misconstrued her words. Though she later realized it was all just picking faults to torment her, the habit of keeping her mouth shut had become ingrained.

But now she kept feeling pressured to say something—anything—to Diego. She also wanted to distract herself from the brush tickling her shoulder.

Searching for something to talk about, her eyes landed on a completed painting.

“Did you paint all the pictures here, Count?”

“That’s right.”

“The colors…… are quite unique.”

Diego’s hand stopped. Whether he was waiting for the paint to dry, contemplating how to cover the brand, or whether her comment had been rude—Ribeta, unable to see his face, had no way of knowing.

She added cautiously. Her voice was small and faint from nervousness.

“I apologize. I spoke thoughtlessly when I know nothing about painting. Please forgive me.”

“You desired freedom more than anyone, yet you don’t know how to enjoy the freedom you’ve been given.”

The brush tip, freshly dipped in paint and grown cold, touched her skin. Ribeta trembled slightly just as she had when the brush first made contact.

“It’s contradictory and inefficient.”

“Because I haven’t gained my freedom yet.”

“You have the freedom to look at a painting and share your thoughts. If you’re going to do it anyway, look properly and speak properly.”

It wasn’t bravado or lies—Diego truly seemed unbothered by having his paintings evaluated.

Ribeta examined Diego’s painting carefully. As she’d told him, the colors were quite unique, which piqued her curiosity. The room was dim but not enough to interfere with viewing the painting.

It was a still life depicting a vase with sunflowers and grapes on a plate. The reason she’d called the colors unique was that the grape berries were painted yellow and the sunflower petals black. The pure white vase contrasted with the black petals, making it appear even whiter. Ribeta briefly thought the vase probably hadn’t been white originally either.

Aside from the reversed colors, the composition, light and shadow, and texture expression were quite excellent and stable. Perhaps that’s why the unconventional coloring stood out even more. It gave a strange impression, like viewing something familiar yet unfamiliar. After a long while, Ribeta opened her mouth.

“It’s both frightening and interesting. What a curious painting.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. Just by painting the colors differently, it feels like I’m looking at something completely different. May I ask what color the vase originally was?”

“Pale blue.”

Ribeta pictured a blue vase in her mind and unconsciously nodded. White suits that painting better.

Diego clicked his tongue briefly and grasped Ribeta’s shoulder.

“If you keep moving, it’ll get annoying.”

“……I’m sorry.”

Ribeta apologized sincerely. Even by her own assessment, Diego was doing something extremely tedious and troublesome. Though of course she hadn’t forced it—Diego had chosen this.

Contrary to his words about it being annoying, Diego’s touch was incredibly delicate. Ribeta closed her eyes. Though she couldn’t tell what he was painting, she could definitely feel a new image covering the brand.

That also meant another layer of hardship was being added to Ribeta’s life.

Yet rather than feeling heavy, the weight grew lighter and lighter.

That’s how much the slave brand had pressed down on her life all along. It was something she could never shake off by her own hands.

Ribeta wanted to faithfully fulfill the contract. She wanted to safely complete the substitution and gain true freedom. She didn’t want to disappoint Diego, who had given her this opportunity. To do that, there was something she absolutely needed to know. Ribeta thought now was the right time.

In the dim, quiet room, the only thing she could feel was Diego’s touch, and perhaps because it was so gentle, it brought forth courage bordering on recklessness.

“What kind of person is Lady Barea? Her manner of speech, her personality, even the smallest habits would be helpful. If you could tell me, it would be a great help.”

“Well. I don’t know anything.”

“Isn’t she…… your fiancée, Count?”

“A fiancée I’ve never even met.”

“You’re saying you’ve never seen her even once?”

“That’s right.”

Diego’s tone as he answered casually seemed to ask what the problem was. Ribeta was at a loss. She couldn’t get information from Duke Barea. She’d assumed Diego would be closest to Lady Barea, but her assumption had been completely wrong.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know about Lady Barea. In fact, it might be better not to know.”

“Pardon?”

It was incomprehensible. Ribeta started to tilt her head out of habit but stopped herself. Diego had tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“You seem to have made up your mind.”

“I’m not bold enough to refuse after making you go to such trouble, Count.”

“Since the contract is settled, I’ll share the plan going forward. Listen carefully.”

The brush lifted away. The clear intention for her to focus on the conversation came through, and Ribeta listened attentively to Diego’s words.

“When you leave this place, you’ll stay at the ducal residence until the wedding.”

“……At the ducal residence?”

“Illeshia Barea is the Duke’s illegitimate daughter and has lived as a commoner until now.”

This was completely different from what Ribeta had heard. According to rumors, Lady Barea had been extremely frail since birth and was convalescing in a quiet countryside location, but had recently recovered enough to return to the capital.

Of course, people had gossiped about the suddenly appearing lady. Among them were rumors that she might be an illegitimate child the Duke had sired outside.

So that hadn’t been mere idle gossip after all.

Ribeta mulled over Diego’s words. He wasn’t someone who gave unnecessary explanations. As she thought carefully, she found a clue in her conversation with Diego.

“Does the Duke perhaps view the lady unfavorably?”

Instead of answering, Diego’s brush swept across Ribeta’s skin. The movement was so light and uninhibited that Ribeta nearly made a strange sound but somehow held it back.

Diego looked down at her with satisfied eyes as she remained composed yet diligently found answers.

“To Duke Barea, what kind of person the lady is doesn’t matter.”

To the Duke, the lady was a piece on a chessboard. As long as she moved as the Duke intended and brought him benefits, nothing else mattered.