Cold sweat gathered in her palms from the anxiety she couldn’t suppress. The rolled paper absorbed the moisture and grew soft and damp.

It wasn’t a joke; her drawing was genuinely terrible. She had never once been satisfied with anything she produced. It could barely even be called drawing, just chalk scribbles on the plaster wall of her room, drawn and erased over and over. If she could take this paper home safely, it would be the first time she had ever drawn on actual paper.

She swallowed the pitiful details down behind lips clamped shut like a clam. But the more she held herself closed, the more fiercely the cruel man pressed his attack. Renato nodded with unmistakable interest.

“Sit down.”

She had a feeling he was going to make her draw something. She was on the verge of being forced to display her line-drawing ability, which called to mind a bundle of broken sticks.

She should have said she was going to write in a diary. He wouldn’t have asked to see a diary. The regret came too late.

A suffocating sense of crisis rose in her chest, and Lisa shook her head. Even if it cost her a hand, she would not draw in front of this man.

But it seemed she had no right of refusal. Renato, tired of waiting for her to stop hesitating, tipped the toe of his shoe on the footstool.

“Lisa?”

Her name spoken in that calm, even tone sent cold sweat running down her spine.

“Sit.”

The hand that idly pointed to the sofa across from him made her feel as though a nerve had snapped. Her arms and legs refused to work properly and creaked as they moved. She was being crushed under the weight of coercion, nearly past the point of bearing it.

He knew too many of her weaknesses. He could tell Count Maldini that Titan had died because of her, or reveal that she had been an accomplice in delivering Smila’s secret letter.

The tension stretched like a rubber band pulled to its limit. The sofa, plush enough to melt into, was as terrifying as the blizzard-swept pasture hillside.

She gripped the drawing paper until it crumpled. The consequences of refusing played out before her eyes.

But I can’t. I absolutely cannot draw in front of this man.

Scraping together every last scrap of reckless courage, Lisa ran.

* * *

Through the window, workers shoveling snow one spadeful at a time played out before Renato’s eyes in a tedious tableau.

The days at the Maldini household passed slowly, as expected. The engagement had only just been raised as a possibility, so he couldn’t simply hold the ceremony and be done with it. He would need to build some rapport with the family he was considering marrying into and spend a reasonable amount of time with Smila before it could proceed without friction.

While he was stuck in this rural backwater, the company executives had been kept busy. They had been making the journey from Bek, the capital where the head office was located, a full day’s train ride away, and the number of round trips had been considerable. Even if they only came to discuss the most urgent matters, it added up.

By now the dead horse had been sold at market and the narrow path through the pasture had been cleared for passage. The howling blizzard that had sounded like a monster’s cry seemed like something from another time entirely, and the winter sun shone brilliantly. Not that it made the tedium any better.

More to the point, a fair amount of time had passed since he had last seen Lisa. He had casually asked the maid she called a close friend, and was told Lisa was responsible for both the study and the guest room. Given that she hadn’t shown her face in situations where they might easily have crossed paths, she was clearly avoiding him on purpose.

To flush a raccoon out of its burrow, you smoke it out. He had plenty of kindling and could manufacture a reason to meet her any time he chose.

She was a woman who brought back memories of his hellish childhood. Leaving her alone would be the wiser course, but a sticky curiosity lingered in a corner of his mind. Who was giving her grief right now, what cold corner was she wandering through, whether her meals were still slop……

The defiant look in Lisa’s eyes in particular refused to leave his thoughts.

In a state of vague unease, Renato spent his days reading. He had worked through a considerable portion of the Maldini household’s meager library when he finally ran into her.

In the sitting room, busy receiving yet another visitor, Lisa was adjusting the curtain tiebacks when she saw him and practically recoiled in horror.

Showing that kind of expression to a person’s face. She had a face that would never be called plain anywhere, and yet the dislike was so nakedly obvious that Renato felt less offended than faintly amused. He felt more contempt for himself, having spent days and nights chewing over the thought of her.

“Close your mouth.”

Lisa snapped her loosely open mouth shut and turned her face away.

“I was just startled.”

Her hands moved quickly, smoothing the curtain folds into place. Just like the last time she had fled mid-conversation, she was already looking for a way out.

Let her go, or hold her back. Or trip her on the way out.

Strictly speaking, there was no reason to focus on Lisa alone. Maids living in frustrating, pitiable circumstances were not uncommon anywhere. Having dependents to care for was common too. And yet she alone gave him a persistent headache, as though a long spike were being driven into the back of his skull.

The fate of people like her was predictable. Those sharp eyes still had some fight in them now, but before long everything would be drained away by the people around her until only an empty shell remained. And breaking that empty shell at the end would be the role of someone as lawless as himself.

The space with just the two of them was clearly unbearable for her; she shuffled sideways with a creak. Her half-up braided hair cascaded to her waist. Her waist was narrow enough to span with two hands, and her ankles were as slender as a bird about to take flight.

Is it because she’s beautiful that I can’t let her go? She was certainly striking enough to make it hard to look away.

So I’m no different from anyone else after all. Renato’s self-mockery was dry. He thought he might as well lean into the spike-in-the-skull sensation and enjoy it.

“Come to my room tonight. Around nine.”

The face that went white with revulsion turned and walked away on its own.

Watching her slip away again stirred something in him that was difficult to name.

A strange, faint tingling ran to his fingertips.

A little while later, Smila entered the sitting room.

“I’m sorry to be late, Renato.”

As the hostess who had arranged the gathering, she should have been there first, and arriving after him was, by strict standards of etiquette, a slight lapse.

“I only just arrived myself.”

Renato concealed a small irritation and sat at the tea table as though it didn’t bother him at all. Smila was looking unstable.

The young lady avoided his eyes and fidgeted. She had been like this ever since the day the suspicious letter was spotted. She clearly wanted to avoid spending time with him, but the countess checked regularly to make sure they were meeting often, so she couldn’t cancel freely. Because of this, Renato had frequently witnessed her mumbling evasively or shrinking with her head bowed.

Today it was particularly pronounced. Smila’s hand trembled so badly she could barely hold her teacup. Given who had been invited to join them, that was understandable.

Guided in by the butler with courteous precision, a man arrived exactly on time.

He was a young man with a well-fed, rounded build that spoke of comfortable circumstances. His thick, buoyant hair and heavy eyebrows gave him an energetic impression. He opened his jaw, shadowed blue from a fresh shave, with an easy grin and greeted Renato.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Marsimo Servillo.”

The person he had already profiled in every way except appearance had finally shown himself. Smila’s secret lover.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

They exchanged introductions and settled around the table, which was laden with an excessive spread of refreshments.

Amusingly, this meeting had been arranged by Count Maldini himself. He had offered to introduce Renato to someone, not wanting him to spend the long winter in an unfamiliar region without company. The intention was for Renato and Marsimo to go hunting and share a drink or two. The count appeared to be entirely unaware of his daughter’s romantic affairs. He would hardly deliberately inconvenience a prospective son-in-law who stood to bring enormous benefit to the Maldini family.