Chapter 1.2

‘Gasp.’

Liz covered her mouth in surprise at the sight she hadn’t imagined. 

The room he was in was a mess. Empty liquor bottles, cigars, crumpled papers, and worn-out books were strewn about. Valentine was perched crookedly on the window sill, smoking a cigar with his left hand. His neatly combed golden hair was disheveled, and a few buttons of his shirt were undone. Yet, the sight wasn’t unsightly at all. 

It was excessively alluring instead. It was incomparable to the perfect gentleman image she had seen from afar.

‘I need to leave…’

Liz knew well what action a maid should take in this situation. Pretend she hadn’t seen anything and disappear like the wind. Yet, her feet in blue shoes wouldn’t budge. 

The sunlight streaming onto his tousled hair was overly dazzling, and the shadows beneath it contrasted darkly, making him even more tempting.

‘I want to draw him.’

Liz unknowingly fell into the thought of sketching him. If she could capture the coexistence of that light and shadow…

“Who’s there?”

A languid voice reached Liz’s ears. Her heart sank.

‘I’ve done something foolish.’

I should have left immediately. Why hadn’t I done so?

Regaining her senses, Liz set aside her regret and bowed her head.

“I’m sorry. I am Liz Garrett, a maid of the Myra family. I got confused about the location of the storage while helping out.”

Liz spoke quickly and began to retreat hastily.

“Ah!”

A small groan escaped Liz’s lips. She had twisted her ankle due to her uncomfortable shoes. Valentine furrowed his brows and stood up.

‘No.’

Liz bit her lips tightly, pretending nothing was wrong. If Valentine came closer, he would notice the swapped shoes. 

Enduring pain was something she was used to. Liz hurriedly backed out of the room.

***

After Liz left.

Valentine, who had half-risen from the window sill, slumped back down. He muttered quietly.

“…Liz Garrett. A maid.”

A modest name, a tone of speech that was more than polite—almost servile. Her unpolished posture and stiff maid’s uniform. 

It was evident that she belonged to a world completely different from his. Yet, strangely, her gaze was hard to forget. The green eyes of that maid sparkled vibrantly. 

Her gaze seemed intent on finding something in Valentine’s face, yet it wasn’t unpleasant. Why?

He tried picturing her face. The colors starting from her green eyes spread to her milk-white skin and sandy hair. As faint blushes bloomed like petals on her cheeks, he unknowingly let out a shallow sigh. But that was as far as it went.

“…Pointless thoughts.”

Once he regained his senses, he felt uncomfortable instead. The idea that someone as beautiful as her, who should belong to his world, was residing in a completely different one.

“This is why it’s dangerous.”

Valentine muttered irritably as he extinguished his cigar. Coffee, cigars, whiskey—he usually avoided anything that stirred human emotions. 

People thought of him as a walking machine because of this, but Valentine had his reasons for behaving that way. 

He understood better than anyone the dominance of sensations. Emotions were the first thing that made humans weak. 

That’s why he thoroughly controlled himself to avoid being swayed by them. And this place was the only space where Valentine could truly rest. 

To erase the budding gaze that had suddenly sprouted in this space, Valentine resolutely muttered.

“If she’s a maid of Myra, I won’t see her again.”

Valentine brushed back his fallen hair, buttoned his shirt to the top, and stood before the mirror. Once again, he had transformed into the perfect Duke of Winchester and left the room.

“Your Grace!”

His aide came rushing up the stairs, almost frantically. The aide, who always maintained his dignity, was now acting out of character, causing Valentine to frown. But the words that came out of the aide’s mouth were even more shocking.

“Miss Isabel has disappeared!”

***

“How long does it take to fetch a single curtain!”

“…I’m sorry.”

Once again, Liz bowed her head in front of the Winchester head maid. Luckily, she had found the curtain in the room next door, but a considerable amount of time had been wasted.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“No! Preparations are complete now. There’s no task for a lazy girl like you.”

The head maid waved her hand dismissively, and Liz, clutching her aching leg, headed for a corner of the garden. At the edge of the Winchester Estate’s wall stood a small tree stump—Liz’s secret spot.

“Phew…”

Feeling troubled, Liz sat on the stump as usual. She picked up a twig with her left hand and began drawing lines. Liz was left-handed. In Holt, left-handedness was considered lacking in refinement, but for a commoner like Liz, it wasn’t much of a disadvantage.

“Was this how he looked…”

The lines she drew soon formed Valentine Winchester’s image. Her skill was remarkable. 

Liz often waited here at the Winchester Estate while Isabel met with the Duke. Sometimes she drew Isabel, other times she tried sketching the other employees or Valentine. 

It was her secret. Liz didn’t want anyone to know she drew. She wanted to remain just another ordinary girl who became a maid because she wasn’t good at anything else.

It’s far too sad to give up hope. If that’s the case, she wished she hadn’t had hope from the start.

“Duke Valentine Winchester.”

Liz muttered softly as she gazed at her drawing.  

The reason his eyes were called jewels wasn’t merely because of their beauty.  

It was because of his ability to perceive beyond mere numbers.  

As soon as he became Duke, he dismantled the longstanding timber industry and turned to coal and steam engines.  

The Winchester branch families, who had embedded corruption and vested interests into the timber industry, fiercely opposed him—especially since the timber industry had brought in substantial profits for the Winchester family.  

However, his swift decision ultimately proved to be a resounding success.  

It wasn’t just about material gains.  

The reputation that Winchester was all honor but lacked practicality also disappeared.  

The branch families that had tried to manipulate the young Duke Valentine to their liking eventually knelt before him.  

With his cold yet perfect handling of matters, people began to refer to him as a living machine.  

Moreover, Valentine was famously known as the epitome of abstinence—he didn’t drink, smoke cigars, or even enjoy card games like poker.  

Some even joked that Valentine Winchester wasn’t human but a mechanical engine, which explained his interest in the coal business.

“But… today was a little different.”

Liz stared intently at the Valentine she had drawn and added a thick cigar to his lips.  

She smudged the cravat with her toes and drew a few strands of hair falling loose.  

The Valentine drawn on the ground transformed into the image of the man Liz had just met.

“Hm, this isn’t right…”

Liz pursed her lips.  

His appearance up close was far more captivating than this.  

That beauty couldn’t be replicated on mere dirt ground.

‘For the hair, I’ll use antimony yellow, and for the shading, Davis gray. If I mix it with plenty of water and paint…’

Liz mentally sketched him in her head.  

Just then, a shout rang in her ears.

“Liz! Where’s Liz?”  

“She was the last one to see Miss Isabel! Liz Garrett!”

Startled, Liz jumped up from the tree stump.

“W-What’s going on?”

She shouted toward the commotion.

“Miss Isabel has run away!”  

“…Miss Isabel?”

Liz looked blankly down at her feet.  

The bright blue, uncomfortable shoes glittered beautifully.  

And right next to those shoes was the face of Valentine Winchester drawn on the ground.

“This can’t be.”

The twig fell from Liz’s hand. A chill ran down her spine.  

Isabel’s peculiar expression flashed through her mind.

“Miss!”

Liz dashed madly toward the estate.  

Valentine Winchester’s image remained on the ground, untouched.  

For a very long time.

***

When Valentine descended to the first floor, the estate was already in chaos.

“Have you checked the forest?”  

“Kay! Where is Kay?”  

“He isn’t here either!”  

“Search everywhere! She couldn’t have gone far!”

Valentine frowned and pressed his fingers against his forehead.  

No matter the reason, he couldn’t understand such irresponsibility.  

For Valentine especially, he felt favor toward people who knew how to take responsibility.  

The minimal goodwill he had toward his political marriage partner evaporated coldly.

“Huff, huff! Duke Winchester!”

Just then, Isabel’s father, Count Myra, came running toward him, gasping for breath.  

Valentine looked down at Count Myra, who was old enough to be his father, with icy eyes.

“I deeply apologize.”  

“I know.”

“Pardon?”

Count Myra stared at Valentine with a dumbfounded expression.  

Though irritation surged, Valentine suppressed it and calmly replied.

“I know you are apologizing. So, a solution?”

“Well, um…”

Count Myra hesitated, choosing his words carefully.  

At that moment, a maid with brown hair came running toward them.

“We’ve found Miss Isabel’s dress!”

The maid held a wedding dress with fallen leaves stuck to it.  

But Valentine’s eyes weren’t on the dress.

‘That maid…’

“You foolish thing!”

Count Myra slapped the maid’s cheek.