***

The next morning, Eliza lay still, listening closely to the sound of Marie’s footsteps moving between the rooms on the second floor.

“Ma’am, I’ll be heading out now. I’ll see you later.”

The moment she heard the words she had been waiting for, Eliza called out,

“Alright. Marie!”

After confirming through the window that Marie had completely left, she hurriedly ran out, changed into her new dress, and headed into the city.

Her destination was Athern’s art auction house.

‘To think I’d end up in a place like this.’

Standing in the waiting lounge—prepared like a modest cocktail party—Eliza felt a faint sense of melancholy.

If she had successfully entered Athern’s high society, she would have been visiting places like this regularly with the noblewomen.

But this time, she chose not to blame Lorina.

Because as long as she dwelled on that wretched woman and her resentment, she would remain nothing more than a victim.

Determined to act as naturally as possible—though it showed a little too obviously—Eliza took a sip of her cocktail and praised herself for choosing a dress that blended perfectly into the atmosphere.

When the auction began, she took her seat.

There weren’t enough chairs, so some men gave up their seats for the women and stood along the walls—but she wasn’t worried.

‘No one will buy his work this time either. With the one million derk I have, it’ll be more than enough.’

The piece she had come for today was a palm-sized painting by a man named Stailhenson.

The painter had been desperately poor, so he worked on the cheapest—and therefore the smallest—canvases.

He crammed entire landscapes into them, layering vivid paints so thickly they almost looked like relief sculptures.

His style stood completely apart from Athern’s traditional aesthetic, which favored clean lines and grand, fantastical narratives.

Perhaps his poverty had been inevitable.

Stailhenson’s fate had been just as tragic as hers.

But as someone who had been granted one last favor by fate, Eliza thought she might be able to help him—just a little.

Of course, she intended to make a great deal of money as well.

Stailhenson’s works were scheduled as the final lot of the auction.

By the time the famous pieces had all been sold, most of the attendees had already left, and only three or four people remained.

Looking around the nearly empty room, Eliza felt her heart begin to beat a little faster.

When the five palm-sized canvases were placed on the podium, the auctioneer spoke.

“Next, the final artist of the day—five works by Stailhenson. We’ll begin the first piece at two thousand derk. Do I have two thousand?”

At the indifferent tone in his voice—likely because it was the last lot—Eliza clicked her tongue without realizing it.

His attitude all but said:

‘There’s no way these will sell. Let’s hurry this up and go home.’

Eliza raised her paddle with a sullen expression.

“Ah, the lady in the green dress has bid two thousand derk. Then, two thousand five hundred. Do I have two thousand five hundred? If not, Stailhenson’s first work is sold for two thousand derk. Next…”

‘…It’s this easy?’

Eliza looked around at the seats, where another person had already left, and felt a little deflated.

‘I was nervous for nothing.’

She won three pieces, all at their opening bids.

Then, when she raised her paddle again for the fourth painting, someone behind her shouted in a ringing voice.

“Five thousand derk!”

The auctioneer’s voice immediately brightened at the sudden competition.

“The lady in the red velvet dress has bid five thousand derk. Five thousand five hundred. Lady in the green dress, will you bid five thousand five hundred?”

Eliza raised her paddle by reflex and turned toward the voice only for her mouth to fall open.

‘Rose Silmera?’

When their eyes met, Rose frowned slightly, as if to say, Hello there, Mrs. Ashton.

Then Rose raised her paddle again.

“Six thousand derk. Do I have six thousand five hundred?”

‘Why are you doing this to me?’

Eliza raised her paddle again and glanced at Rose, who looked terribly amused.

‘I knew it was going too well! Is this what they mean when they say wealthy people have different eyes? …But Stailhenson’s works weren’t supposed to sell even once while he was alive.’

As far as Eliza knew, Stailhenson failed at today’s auction as well, then died of a chronic illness without even enough money to pay for his funeral.

And the fourth painting was the plainest of the five.

Unease crept over her, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just go home.

Since she had won three pieces for less than ten thousand derk in total, it also felt unfair for only one painting to suddenly shoot up in price.

‘What should I do…?’

Then Rose raised the bid to nine thousand.

‘Is she harassing me because of what happened at the boutique last time?’

Eliza felt a surge of resentment.

She hated people who tormented others slyly, like Lorina—and people who did it openly, like Rose.

She lifted her paddle high and said.

“Twenty thousand derk!”

“Oh! The lady in the green dress has bid twenty thousand derk. Lady in the red velvet dress, will you bid?”

“Ha!”

Rose waved her paddle as if fanning herself, signaling her refusal.

And the auctioneer awarded the fourth painting to Eliza.

And when the bidding for the fifth painting began, Rose stood up and left her seat. So Eliza secured it at the opening price, just like the others.

“Phew…”

After collecting the paintings from the office, Eliza stepped out into the lobby—only to find Rose Silmera waiting for her.

Eliza approached first and greeted her, thinking inwardly, ‘I won’t lose.’

“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Silmera. Have you been well?”

“Ha! Well, you ask? Can’t you tell from this plump body of mine?”

“Oh my, you’re not plump at all!”

The words slipped out sincerely, and Eliza found her cheeks flushing.

That reaction seemed to please Rose greatly.

“With a face that innocent, you spout such flattery! Hahaha.”

“……”

Ah—she had meant to come on strong.

Embarrassed, Eliza looked away, and Rose pointed at the bundle in her hands.

“So, why did you buy that lump of paint?”

“Ah…”

Eliza couldn’t very well say that the artist would soon die of tuberculosis—and that afterward, the value of his work would skyrocket.

So she answered awkwardly,

“He was once considered a promising painter when he debuted, but…”

She trailed off.

She didn’t want to speak carelessly about someone else’s life.

“…it seemed like no one else would buy them.”

“What? Good heavens. I thought the wife of a banker would have some grand reason—are you even in your right mind?”

“My husband doesn’t involve himself in auctions. He only makes investments with clear and certain reasons. I’m more the type to rely on instinct.”

“Hmm?”

Rose’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer, then a look of satisfaction crossed her face.

At that moment, Eliza felt something strange that Rose’s behavior earlier hadn’t been malicious at all.

That perhaps… this was simply the way Rose spoke to her.

She opened the bundle and held out the fourth painting.

“This is the one you bid on earlier. I’d like to give it to you as a gift.”

“…?”

Rose’s expression, which had softened, suddenly crumpled—making her look more like a bulldog than ever before.

“What, a bribe?”

Startled, Eliza quickly replied.

“Is there anything I could possibly gain from you in exchange for a twenty-thousand-derk painting?”

At that, Rose’s eyes widened even further.

“Of course not! Hahaha. Nothing at all. My dinner for one evening costs twenty thousand derk! Still, if you insist on giving it, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

‘Does she eat gold or something?’

That was the most shocking part to Eliza.

Carefully, she asked,

“Then… why did you bid on that painting, Mrs. Silmera?”

“That? Because you were bidding.”

“…Pardon?”

“I just wanted to provoke you a little. I was planning to drive it up to a hundred thousand derk—but when I saw that you looked like you were about to cry, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. So? Did it get to you?”

“Ah… yes. A little…”

Eliza realized then that she was particularly weak against people who showed their malice openly—unlike someone like Lorina, who wrapped it in pretty words.

Laughing heartily, Rose said,

“I thought that once a banker’s wife took my calling card, she’d come running to ingratiate herself—but you ignored me all this time. How could I not be annoyed? What, is Roycobs too good for an international divorcée like me?”

At the sudden shift in conversation, Eliza firmly denied it in her mind.

‘You may be a divorcée, but I’m planning to run away from home.’

“That’s not it at all—it’s a misunderstanding, Mrs. Silmera! My husband doesn’t allow me to be involved in his work. And I never once thought you were someone who couldn’t approach a bank of your choosing yourself.”

As she spoke, Eliza realized something else—Rose was still teasing her.

“So what, I’ve misunderstood again?”

“It’s not that…”

“Come along. Let’s have some tea at my residence.”

Residence—the way she said it carried the lingering habits of someone once used to a grander title.

After a brief hesitation, Eliza handed the paintings to Rose’s attendant and climbed into the gleaming carriage.