“That little rat…. She can’t do a single thing properly. Tsk. Even the way she breathes irritates me.”

“You idiot! How many times must I explain it to you? How many times? I’ve never met anyone as stupid and dull-witted as you in my entire life! Do you understand?”

The people in the slums had particularly despised Irina.

The reason was simple.

They believed Ben was giving her preferential treatment.

In a way, they were right.

Ben had neither beaten Irina to death nor sold her to Baron Baradon.

‘Though he was only waiting for the right opportunity…….’

Unaware of that, the people in the slums had resented even the sight of Irina walking past them—resented even the fact that she breathed the same air.

With every step she took, sharp gazes had pierced into her.

And with every step that followed, vicious insults had clung to her ankles, dragging her down.

Her chest tightened.

Irina anxiously bit her lip.

‘Let’s ask him to leave.’

If they stayed here, even the duke might be insulted simply for being with her.

She would tell him she was feeling unwell and ask to go home.

‘He saw how nervous I was earlier, so I’m sure he’ll understand.’

They had not even seen half of the donation gala yet, but Irina felt no regret.

Let’s go home.

Just as she parted her lips to speak, the Duke of Winfried pressed his thumb firmly against her lower lip.

Startled by the sudden touch, Irina accidentally bit his finger.

“Is this a habit of yours?”

“What?”

“You bite your lip whenever you feel anxious.”

Did she?

Irina blinked slowly.

“Look. You’ve injured it.”

The duke pressed down more firmly with his thumb.

A sharp sting followed, confirming that there truly was a wound.

“Ow….”

Irina narrowed her eyes.

The wound was small, but it hurt considerably when he pressed it so firmly.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

‘What is he doing?’

He had already shown her that she had hurt herself, so why didn’t he remove his finger?

Yet the duke did not move it.

Instead, he pressed down firmly once more.

His crimson gaze remained fixed on her as always.

“…It hursh.”

Unable to endure the pain any longer, Irina complained through her squashed lips.

Only then did he withdraw his hand.

“Miss Irina.”

As he lowered his hand, the duke continued,

“Those people are not talking about you. They are talking about me.”

“About you, Your Grace?”

Why?

While Irina might have provided them with something to criticize, there was not a single flaw to be found in the duke.

His gait, posture and attire were all impeccable.

“Have you never heard the rumors about me?”

Irina merely furrowed her brow, looking utterly bewildered.

He elaborated,

“Have you never heard the rumors about me? They’re entertaining enough, so they must have spread even through the slums.”

“Ah.”

That was right.

She remembered now.

Only then did the countless rumors about the Duke of Winfried come flooding back to her.

A warmonger. A murderous fiend. He was a man born and raised on the battlefield, his mind twisted beyond repair.

There had even been a rumor that he was aroused by the sight of blood.

In truth, however, he was a war hero who had fought for everyone’s sake.

And yet, for reasons she could not fathom, the rumors surrounding him were vicious beyond belief.

Even Irina had believed them at first, trembling in fear whenever she saw him.

Despite the fact that he was the man who had saved her.

“…….”

Remembering their first encounter sent her spirits plummeting for an entirely different reason.

Whether or not he realized it, the duke simply continued,

“So their whispers are none of your concern.”

As he said those words, the Duke of Winfried looked no different from usual.

He appeared so accustomed to such rumors that he saw nothing troubling about them.

“…They only say those things because they don’t know you.”

Irina had to make a tremendous effort not to bite her lip again in frustration.

“If they ever spoke with you, they would realize that all those rumors are complete nonsense.”

However, she could not stop herself from frowning or the crease from forming between her brows.

Her grip on the duke’s arm tightened.

“You shouldn’t let their words bother you either, Your Grace.”

“Who can say?”

Hmm?

His response was entirely different from what she had expected.

“…One never knows.”

The words slipped from him like a murmur to himself.

Irina blinked slowly.

“Miss Irina, I believe there is a large painting over there.”

“A large painting?”

“Would you like to see it?”

Irina nodded.

What was that?

She didn’t think she had misheard him.

Yet the duke looked exactly as he always did, with no hint of anything unusual, leaving her feeling confused.

The two of them resumed walking and entered what appeared to be a converted drawing room.

Perhaps because it contained the most paintings, there were several small groups of people gathered there.

“Wow.”

Just as the duke had said, an enormous landscape painting that occupied nearly half the wall entered Irina’s view.

A verdant field, a clear sky, a lake, and sunlight scattered across its surface like shimmering powder.

The sheer scale of it was almost overwhelming.

“I know this painting.”

Irina’s voice gradually grew more excited.

“I saw it in a book before, and Viscountess Helpriton told me about it as well. She said the artist who painted it came from the slums.”

“Did she?”

Hearing a hint of amusement in his reply, Irina nodded.

“Yes. She was even a female artist. Isn’t that astonishing? At first, she pretended to be a man, but later revealed that she was a woman and continued her career openly. Isn’t that incredible?”

Winfried nodded.

“According to Viscountess Helpriton, painting was not considered a profession women could pursue during the artist’s lifetime.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Really?”

Irina smiled radiantly, her blue eyes curving into beautiful crescents.

“If you didn’t know before, you can simply learn now. I’ll tell you all about her.”

Holding tightly onto his arm, Irina continued to explain in her pleasant voice.

Logan smiled inwardly as he watched her.

In truth, he already knew everything she was telling him.

The artist who had painted this work was so famous that even those with no interest in art knew her name.

Moreover, determined that her son should lack nothing, the late Duchess had even summoned tutors to the castle during the war to teach him art, painting, dancing and singing.

Thanks to that, if anyone had asked Logan to recount the artist’s life story in full, he would have been able to do so without making a single mistake.

And yet, although he already knew everything Irina was telling him, it somehow became fascinating when it came from her.

As he listened attentively, Logan’s gaze was not on the painting, but on Irina.

He watched her eyes sparkle beneath the chandelier and her cheeks flush with excitement as she chattered away, her red lips moving animatedly.

‘She’s beautiful.’

He had thought the same thing when they first met.

Although the circumstances and her appearance at the time should not have prompted such a thought, it had come to him naturally.

Now that she was eating and resting properly, that feeling had only grown stronger.

In fact, he often found himself wanting to reach out and touch her.

“…….”

Logan curled his hand around the finger he had pressed against her lips earlier.

For some reason, he felt the urge to nibble on it.

“Your Grace?”

The blue eyes suddenly turned toward him.

Startled, Logan cleared his throat.

“Hmm.”

“You can’t keep looking only at me. You should be looking at the painting.”

Irina tugged on his arm, urging him closer.

Allowing himself to be led, Logan stepped nearer to the painting.

“If you look here, doesn’t the sunlight resemble flowers? That’s why this painting is called Flowers of the Field. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Do you like the painting?”

“What?”

“Then I’ll buy this one.”

What was he talking about?

The conversation had taken an astonishingly abrupt turn.

Irina blinked.

She had asked whether he found it fascinating, yet he had suddenly decided to purchase the painting.

Regardless, the duke reached for the paper beneath it.

“W-Wait!”

Irina desperately grabbed Logan’s arm.

“It’s far too expensive.”

“You don’t even know how much I intend to offer.”

At Logan’s teasing tone, Irina gave him a displeased look.

“I know people deliberately pay high prices for paintings at donation galas.”

In truth, Ern had only told her that shortly before they departed.

Nevertheless, Irina brazenly raised her chin as though she had known it all along.

“You already donated several paintings, including some on my behalf. That is more than enough.”

“It isn’t enough.”

With that brief response, Logan picked up the paper.

“A donation is a donation. A purchase is an entirely separate matter.”

He swiftly wrote an amount on the paper.

Irina rose onto her toes and tried to peek at the figure, but he was one step faster.

“Besides, if I am going to purchase a painting, it would be better to choose one that someone likes.”

Logan carefully folded the paper and slipped it into the small box.

“So buying this one would be best.”

“Was there no painting you liked, Your Grace?”

Logan nodded at Irina’s question.

After appearing to consider something for a moment, Irina quietly thanked him.

“…Thank you.”

Fidgeting with her fingers, she looked up at Logan.

“I’ll treasure it.”

“I never said I was giving it to you.”

“……!”

“I’m joking.”

Logan chuckled at the sight of her eyes widening dramatically, then gently turned her around.

A group of young ladies around Irina’s age, along with several married noblewomen, had gathered nearby.

They kept stealing glances at Logan and Irina, only to hurriedly avert their eyes whenever their gazes met.

“It’s time to follow Viscountess Helpriton’s advice, Lady Leonid.”

He was referring to the viscountess’s suggestion that Irina should make herself known before Sainer Florence had a chance to spread any strange rumors about her.

Irina, who had been glaring so boldly at the duke only moments earlier, immediately faltered.

“Must I really go? Couldn’t I simply remain here…?”

“Merely seeing you and speaking with you are two different things.”

“But….”

She glanced cautiously towards the group.

None of them were among those who had been whispering about the duke earlier.

However, that did nothing to ease her hesitation.

Who could say?

Perhaps they were gossiping about the duke, too.

“It’s all right.”