It seemed unlikely, but there was no guarantee. Maybe she was pretending to be clumsy and dazed as part of a grand performance.

Where had the mistress, rumored to be so composed, gone? Was she making him lower his guard by making him think it couldn’t possibly be a scheme? Or was there a mismatch between her original personality and the brainwashing magic, causing it to malfunction?

Even if that wasn’t the case, he needed to be careful. It was always best to take precautions. Who would protect his chastity? Even if a hundred succubi drained his energy, his acquaintances would probably just laugh and place bets.

He went to pick up the drawing board from the carriage to give it to Lily and was startled. Familiar drawings scattered everywhere.

“Eek!”

Lily’s scream echoed through the maple forest.

“Miss, you were Briston’s illustrator.”

Breck remarked with a curious feeling. Lily, clutching the drawing board, had her face buried in the ground.

The scattered sketches showcased her talent to the fullest. They were daring illustrations of the two spirits of the maple and ginkgo trees entangled with Briston. In reality, these needed more shadows, leaves, or a waterfall curtain to cover them up more. In their current state, they weren’t just daring; they were the kind of pictures that couldn’t be published in a newspaper.

“Why are you embarrassed? You’re good at it.”

Breck said sincerely.

The drawings of Briston that Lily made were excellent. Breck had no expertise in art, but he could tell that Briston’s body was depicted as the ideally trained body of a knight. Although different from Breck’s type, Briston in the novel was a knight in plate armor with a shield in one hand.

In other words, she was drawing a body suitable for that weapon. Moreover, the battle scenes were quite impressive. Even if the novel described impossible movements, there was no inconsistency in the illustrations. The dynamic poses accurately pushed the limits of the bodies in the drawings.

So Breck had thought that the illustrator must be quite a skilled martial artist. It was a different aspect, but it significantly contributed to his enjoyment of Briston.

Lily buried her face in the drawing board, her face bright red.

“It’s not about skill.”

“Is it about a noble drawing these kinds of pictures? So what? It’s a hobby, isn’t it?”

“It’s not even artistic, just drawings… I’m doing this for a few bucks.”

“What’s wrong with earning money by showing your work? Money doesn’t grow on trees. Anyway, that explains it.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Breck cleared his throat. He thought he understood the meaning behind her scrutinizing gaze and the way she had massaged his arm.

‘So she wasn’t just a pervert.’

She was a talented pervert.

Breck felt a bit excited. He was someone who willingly paid for Briston’s works, and now, the illustrator of Briston was right in front of him. Talent has a way of making everything forgivable.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Lily finally lifted her tear-streaked eyes.

“What?”

“A woman drawing these kinds of pictures.”

“It is strange. How can someone draw so well?”

Breck, who had once been scolded for not being able to draw a straight line, genuinely thought so. Lily smiled faintly. Breck cleared his throat. The pervert looked cute.

“They say there’s a special edition every autumn.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’m a big fan.”

Lily’s face turned red again. Breck unknowingly smiled.

‘She is cute, after all.’

No, no. She was still a pervert. This wasn’t the time to be thinking like this.

Knowing that Lily was cautiously watching him, Breck subtly moved away, pretending to tend to the horse. There was nothing good to come from getting involved.

Lily buried her head in the drawing board again, groaning. Breck’s reaction was only natural. After all, he had come as a coachman, not a companion.

She genuinely admired Breck’s physique, but how could he know that? Given all the thoughts rolling around in her head, he absolutely mustn’t find out.

But inspiration struck. The sight of Breck brushing the horse’s mane in the maple forest exploded in Lily’s mind. Maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed taller and more upright than usual.

No, he really was. Others might not notice, but Lily could tell. He was standing straight, just as she always corrected in her drawings.

‘Does he hunch over because he’s shy around people?’

Lily vaguely thought so. But he didn’t seem that shy. His posture was too impeccable for someone who lived as a drifter doing odd jobs.

‘I’m curious about his past.’

Not that it was her place to pry.

Anyway, Anna was right. She knew exactly what Lily needed to meet her deadline. Lily thought she should thank her when she got home.

Anna hadn’t sent them to the maple forest for that reason, but Lily innocently thought so and started sketching Breck’s face in the corner of the paper. Just a warm-up. Since they were together today, it wouldn’t be a crime to steal a glance and draw his face. Below the neck, she would just do quick sketches. Too much detail might ruin the current peace.

Then she quickly became absorbed in her work. The beautiful forest, with its red maple leaves that seemed to heat the air, a maple spirit with flowing red hair instead of a brown-maned horse, and a kind man with no sinister intentions. The god of deadlines seemed to be helping her today.

After a while, Breck glanced over and saw Lily completely absorbed in her work. Her brown hair gently flowed around her ears. He quietly approached, trying not to make a sound with the fallen leaves, but she was so focused that she didn’t even notice.

‘Can I peek?’

He shouldn’t, but what could he do with his good eyesight? She would notice if he got too close, but from this distance, she wouldn’t. Using that excuse, he circled around to her back and sneaked a glance at the drawing board.

He found a playful sketch of his own face in the corner of the paper and couldn’t help but chuckle. He leaned against a suitable tree trunk and spent his favorite kind of time—a boring, uneventful afternoon.

**

Shuffle, shuffle.

The sound of cards being dealt echoed on a table filled with cigarette smoke. Lord Greer, the third son of Baron Everard, chewed on his cigarette as he picked up his cards. Today, his luck was terrible.

In fact, his luck was always bad, but he never admitted it.

The cards were dealt to everyone.

“Bet.”

“Call.”

“Call.”

Gold coins piled up in the center of the table, forming a small mountain. Greer slyly glanced at the other players. They were people he saw almost every day, but their relationships were far from friendly, as they were constantly taking each other’s money.

One of them taunted him.

“Why so timid?”

“Leave him be. Lord Greer is broke. He couldn’t even pay for drinks yesterday and had to put it on a tab.”

“Shut up.”

Greer spat coldly. He had, of course, paid that tab. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to join today’s game.

But it was true that his situation was dire. His wallet was empty, the trust company’s employee refused to give him a lump sum payment of his pension, and the Everard family’s estate manager said, “No,” the moment he saw him. His father wouldn’t even meet him.

[Marrying Lily was your last chance to save your life.]

His father had said that right after the divorce and hadn’t spoken to him even at family gatherings since. Soon, he might have to sell his cufflinks or clothing decorations.

‘Damn it.’

Just thinking about it made him unbearably angry. He was the only one who truly knew what kind of woman she was.

She entered the bedroom on their wedding night with such an expectant look, but when he made advances, she showed discomfort and refused. Despite being so wealthy, she never once gave him a substantial amount of money for his business ventures.

[Sorry. I don’t see you as a man.]

Her honest confession during one of their fights had been that. Greer, reflecting on his own behavior, was sure there was another man.

The paltry alimony he received wasn’t enough. That money didn’t even last three months after the divorce. There were so many women who were crazy about him, but she hadn’t appreciated being chosen and didn’t even seem sorry for branding him with a divorce.

She was a prude. If she couldn’t enjoy life, she should at least know how to spend money.

He chewed on his cigarette. The taunting continued.

“How long are you going to stall? Fold?”

“Why so timid?”