Carlos knew better than anyone else the sensations that those small lips could stir up. He felt his mouth go dry. He withdrew his hand at once.

If he continued touching her lips, he might make a mistake with the sleeping Annely.

She was only willing to tolerate him leaving faint marks on her neck. If her lips were swollen by morning, she would undoubtedly become angry and banish him from her room. That was something Carlos wanted to avoid at all costs.

To erase the lingering softness on his fingertips, he clenched and unclenched his fist several times. Only once his breathing had steadied did he press himself closer to Annely’s back and close his eyes.

As time passed and dawn began to break, Carlos opened his eyes of his own accord. He had not slept for long, yet he was well-rested and showed no signs of fatigue.

Careful not to wake Annely, he quietly rose from the bed and moved to slip back out through the window. Then, suddenly, he remembered that Annely had been examining something in the dressing room the night before.

It had been wrapped in cloth.

There was no mistaking it — it had been a painting.

When Carlos realized that one of the paintings Knox had mentioned was missing, he didn’t think much of it. However, seeing Annely carefully hide a particular painting in the dressing room and handle it with such care made him curious.

He entered the dressing room connected to the bedroom and found the painting fairly easily.

Why had Annely concealed it so carefully?

His heart began to race, and he felt tension and unease tighten his chest. He wavered, unable to decide whether it would be better to see the painting or remain ignorant.

But his relationship with Annely could hardly get any worse.

With this in mind, he reached out, hesitated, and slowly pulled the cloth away. As the first light of dawn spilled across the canvas, Carlos drew in a sharp breath.

It was a portrait.

The features were faint and indistinct, making it impossible to identify the man. Yet Carlos recognized him instantly from his finely tailored military uniform.

That uniform was unmistakable.

Tedor had worn it for the first time at the banquet where Carlos had first met Annely — the attire that had made Tedor the focus of the evening and sparked a long-standing craze throughout high society.

Carlos himself had never worn such a uniform, not even once.

“Tedor…”

Murmuring the emperor’s name, Carlos let out a hollow laugh. The painting Annely treasured so dearly was a portrait of Tedor.

“…Carlos?”

At the hoarse voice behind him, Carlos turned his stiff neck. Annely stood at the entrance to the dressing room, looking as though she hadn’t fully woken yet. The moment she realized what he was holding, the color drained from her once-lively face.

“You—how did you know this was here?”

Stumbling over her words, Annely rushed forward, reaching for the portrait in Carlos’s hands.

But Carlos twisted his body aside to avoid her grasp, then examined the portrait more closely once again.

“You put a great deal of care into this.”

Having initially been distracted by the uniform, it was now clear that the painting was extraordinarily delicate, created with meticulous care and attention to detail. Compared to the landscape she had seen a few days earlier, it was clear that Annely had poured her heart and soul into this one. The uniform itself had been rendered so vividly that it was instantly recognizable.

“Give it back!”

Carlos caught Annely’s hand as she reached for the painting. She twisted her wrist in his grip, but his strength left her unable to move.

“Carlos!”

He loosened his grip. As Annely watched anxiously, he lowered his head and kissed her.

When he captured the lips that had kept him awake all night, drawing them in, the emotions that had felt on the verge of overflowing slowly began to subside. Carlos sneered inwardly at the irony that Annely was both the source of his anger and the one who soothed it.

This brief sneer created a gap between their lips. Annely turned her head away and gasped for air. Leaning half into Carlos’s arms, she panted before shouting, her face flushing deep red.

“What do you think you’re doing? You barged into my dressing room without permission and are now touching my belongings without my consent!”

She had desperately wished that Carlos would never see the painting. Judging by his reaction, however, he had already seen it. Afraid that her feelings had been laid bare, this was the only accusation she could cling to. In her agitation, she barely even registered the kiss he had just forced upon her.

“Annely.”

Unlike Annely, who was burning with agitation, Carlos was unnervingly calm.

“You said it yourself. That perhaps the two of us haven’t respected each other for the past three years.”

It seemed he was right.

That was why she had brought a painting drawn while longing for the man she loved into the ducal estate—and kept it so carefully. The day he had examined the paintings, Annely must have been thinking of this very portrait. If she had disposed of it, even if he had found out later, he would have pretended not to know.

But Annely had missed her chance. Instead of getting rid of it, she had hidden it away deep inside.

“Will you respect me now?”

“What are you talking about…?”

It wasn’t the accusation or mockery she had expected regarding the portrait. The unexpected question left Annely confused.

Carlos loosened his grip and rubbed Annely’s lips, swollen from the kiss moments before. His rough fingertips brushed over her soft mouth.

“If you respect me now—or at the very least, if you still recognize me as a living, breathing being…”

Carlos turned his head toward the portrait. Annely’s gaze followed.

The canvas was stretched taut, as if it might tear at any moment, and Carlos’s hand gripping it had gone pale from the force. Yet despite that, his expression remained eerily calm as he continued.

“Finish it as me.”

Annely blinked blankly.

The heat that had burned her moments ago—at having her heart laid bare—had long since vanished.

“No matter who you started with, the end should be me. Understand?”

Just as Annely had loved Tedor and yet married him—every ending of Annely’s had to be his.

Only then did Annely realize that Carlos had misunderstood.

He had never once considered the possibility that the subject of the portrait might be himself.

The lips that had been about to move in explanation grew heavy the instant she grasped that fact, pressing tightly shut instead.

‘If only you had trusted my words—even a little. If you had trusted my heart…’

Had that been the case, there would never have been room for such a misunderstanding.

From beginning to end, Carlos had been steadfast in his belief that he was not to blame. This attitude stemmed from his lack of belief in Annely’s feelings.

Annely felt herself calming rapidly.

Before long, she nodded, her expression as composed as Carlos’ had been moments earlier.

“…All right.”

Carlos’s brow twitched. He clearly hadn’t expected her to accept so readily.

“Then don’t say anything about this painting anymore. It will be finished as you.”

Despite receiving the answer he wanted, Carlos felt unsettled. It was as though, having finally stepped onto the right path, he had dropped something important behind him, causing him to keep glancing back.

But behind him was only darkness. There was no turning back.

“…That’s what I want.”

All Carlos could do was move forward, forcing himself to believe that he hadn’t lost anything at all.

***

“I rushed to prepare this, so it’s rather lacking, Madam. I’ll replace everything with what you used before as soon as possible.”

Amber spoke as she put down her painting materials. When Annely brought out the canvases, Amber had assumed that she was returning to painting. However, with no further instructions, only a request to replace lost materials and no sign of Annely’s old supplies, she hadn’t been able to find what she needed.

With only the most basic tools available, Annely picked up a pen she usually used for sketching.

“This is all I need today. Take the rest back.”

Annely seemed unusually calm. Amber thought this was strange, but she gathered the remaining items and turned to leave.

Just before she stepped outside, Carlos entered the room. Amber moved aside. After glancing back for a moment — just long enough to see Carlos take a seat opposite Annely — she quietly closed the door behind her.

Annely had been holding her pen awkwardly. The moment her eyes fell on Carlos, she froze.

Unlike Annely, who was wearing only a shawl loosely draped over her nightclothes, Carlos was fully dressed in a military uniform.

It was one he had never worn before — new and unfamiliar. Although it seemed slightly small on him, it was far from ill-fitting; instead, it traced the firm lines of his body with striking clarity.

Above all, it resembled the uniform in the portrait.