After no news for days when I was curious, the sentence suddenly appeared and was laying out Rashid’s story.

I both wanted and didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Especially during an embarrassing moment like now.

“That’s enough……”

Ignoring my protests, Rashid stroked my back. My body trembled for a moment. I hadn’t expected him to touch me. He moved his hand across my back, changing directions as if drawing tree branches. He seemed to be tracing where the scars were.

「His touch was careful as he gently pressed the wounds.」

Only the crackling sound of burning firewood in the fireplace and faint breathing remained in the inner chamber.

Though Rashid’s touch was extremely delicate, I who received that touch was in agony. Everywhere he touched felt like I was burning.

Could he use fire even without a sword? It felt so scorching that I wondered if I was getting burned wherever his hands touched.

‘I’ll catch a fever at this rate.’

My heart was already pounding and felt like it would burst when he traced over the bralette, but when his fingertips that had wandered over my back for a while tapped my waist, I got goosebumps.

What is happening right now? I tightly gripped the pillowcase as if about to tear it. My throat was not just churning—I felt like I might throw up.

“Can you tell by looking?”

Unable to bear the tension created by the silence, I blurted out whatever came to mind.

“You’re not even a doctor.”

“…Did a doctor see it?”

“See what?”

“Your back.”

What on earth is he talking about? I nodded slightly as I answered.

“Of course. Doctors need to treat it.”

“…I see.”

Rashid acknowledged this completely logical explanation. He didn’t seem to find his own words strange at all.

I couldn’t feel his touch anymore—his hand must have moved away. I quickly took the opportunity to get up and fix my clothes.

“Now that you’ve seen it, you understand, right? It doesn’t hurt that much. And it will get better with time.”

“Scars remain.”

“That can’t be helped. You can barely see them so don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

That’s the important thing. That I’m fine.

And that your concern is rather useless.

“So don’t worry about it.”

Because it makes me feel at a loss, and while it’s reassuring, that reassurance feels burdensome and makes me want to avoid it… such complicated feelings.

「Rashid was troubled by Alisa’s words.」

I ignored the sentence and got up from the bed. Then I said cheerfully.

“Well, shall we ask them to prepare breakfast?”

* * *

The portrait of the Duchess was complete.

The artist clapped his hands with a satisfied expression as he examined the painting from various angles. It was truly the masterpiece of the century. Though he painted it himself, he was extremely pleased.

In the painting, the Duchess’s bright pink hair flowed in gentle curves like a winding river, and her fair skin glowed with a milky radiance. Her red lips were full of vitality and her eyes sparkled like jewels.

She was several times more beautiful than in reality, so surely both the subject herself and the Duke would be satisfied.

He wanted to present it as soon as possible, but circumstances hadn’t been favorable in many ways. The Duke who ordered it had left for an inspection, and meanwhile the Duchess had returned severely injured.

But there was nothing else he could do. The artist simply painted quietly in his workshop in one corner of the castle.

Time passed quickly as he drew each line and added each color after much deliberation, and the Duke returned. And finally the day came when the portrait was complete.

The atmosphere in the castle these days was quite good. After the welcome ceremony, the vassals and servants followed the ducal family with even deeper loyalty.

Perhaps because the Duchess had a gentle nature, the Duke also showed a much softer attitude than before, and when people gathered they all marveled at this change.

‘He’ll be even more pleased when he sees the completed painting!’

When the artist reported, the Duke quickly made time. The artist was very satisfied with his prompt response.

At the appointed time for the audience, the artist went to see him with the huge canvas mounted on an easel, and that easel loaded on a cart.

“Your Grace, Duke!”

His shoulders instinctively straightened upon seeing the Duke. He had done exactly what he wanted! He even prided himself on bringing results beyond what he had hoped for.

“Very well. Let’s see what you’ve brought.”

“Yes, understood!”

The artist proudly removed the cloth covering the frame.

In the portrait, the Duchess was a beauty with a lovely appearance and elegant atmosphere. Of course the real Duchess was quite beautiful too, but she couldn’t compare to the perfectly idealized painting overlaid with fantasy. That’s what the artist thought.

The Duke silently gazed at the painting for a while. The artist who had internally expected a big reaction was somewhat disappointed. And that disappointment soon transformed into fear. Because the Duke kept staring at the painting.

‘Does he not like it?’

But it’s truly a masterpiece that I put so much effort into….

Unaware of the artist’s anxiety, only after a considerable time had passed did the Duke finally speak.

“You painted it similarly.”

The artist doubted his ears for a moment. Painted it similarly? Is that really what he said looking at that painting? He was so incredulous that he dared to doubt the Duke.

Anyone could see she was more beautiful than the real Duchess. He had painted her as the greatest beauty of the century, yet he said it was similar? Was this just empty praise for his efforts, or was he serious? It was puzzling.

“Well done.”

The artist was left speechless at the following praise. Did he mean well done for painting it similarly, or well done for creating a masterpiece….

While he was confused by the Duke’s inscrutable intentions, the Duke commanded,

“Sylvester, reward him appropriately.”

The artist only realized somewhat later just how generous that appropriate reward would be.

* * *

“Your Grace, are you alright?”

After the artist left, Sylvester checked on Rashid.

His master was strange today. He would miss what was said while lost in deep thought, and uncharacteristically stare blankly at something in the air.

Sylvester found this master who acted clumsily, as if he had a missing part, very unfamiliar.

He was someone who had been honed sharp as a blade by the time his childhood ended. Possessing both ice and fire within, he acted with unmatched coldness while sometimes being as merciless as the dragon’s flame he wielded.

What could possibly make such a person appear so careless? Sylvester found the current Rashid surprising and fascinating.

“Sylvester.”

“Please command me, Your Grace.”

“Alisa… my wife was hurt worse than I thought.”

For a moment his heart sank. He knew the Duke would care about this, but he hadn’t expected him to ask directly.

“Why didn’t you report the details from the beginning?”

“My sincerest apologies. I intended to tell you right when you returned.”

“And?”

“You said you didn’t want to hear it……”

“Ah.”

That’s right.

Rashid nodded as though he had just remembered. At that time he had been so angry he didn’t want to hear anything. Because hearing would make him think more, and the more he thought, the more painful it became.

He hadn’t known himself that he could be so enraged by the fact that she met and even sympathized with the woman who abandoned him. He was even afraid that Natalie might have said something foolish to Alisa. Afraid that she might come to hate him.

It took several days just to regain his composure, and he had barely managed to listen to Kendrick’s report.

Ridiculously, hearing that report made him suffer again. He was at a complete loss, suffering either way.

Suffering, he laughed mockingly. Rashid thought he must be going mad. For some time now, he found it hard to maintain his composure when Alisa was involved. Small things irritated him and he became sensitive to every little detail.

These sensations were unfamiliar and painful to him.

Something he couldn’t control.

Something that shouldn’t be.

Yet something that was happening anyway.

Neither O nor X, neither this nor that, sensations and emotions he couldn’t quite pin down left him confused.

At first her unpredictability was amusing and her boldness was interesting, but now those very things made him thirst.

Why do you make me so unsettled?

Now that made him angry.

Yet amusingly, he had no thought of trying to force her into any particular mold. Though he could easily arrange things neatly if he wanted to.

Strangely, when he saw Alisa, his suffering melted away like spring snow, leaving his heart peaceful. All his complicated thoughts became useless.

Alisa was strange. She said she was fine while bearing such vivid scars on her back, and though she had been so eager to leave him that she was practically dancing with impatience, now she said she was glad he existed.

She was an incomprehensible being who couldn’t be defined in any single way.

And so, she was lovely.

Lovely?

A mere ordinary human was lovely?

Rashid found it hard to believe his own sentiment.

But he didn’t want to deny it. Perhaps because he couldn’t.