Chapter 7

Clarette arrived home around 1 PM. As usual, she unlocked the door with her key and took off her coat first. Today’s outing had been quite fruitful.

‘It would be wonderful if I could take on this commission.’

She took out the draft contract Melanie had given her and read it again. The client was Marquis Rembart, who owned several theaters in the capital. The required painting was a mural of figures for the exterior wall of a theater.

Since the location was in the capital, it was far away, and since she’d have to paint outdoors, the work would be physically demanding.

But more than anything, what worried her was…

<In a week, there will be a garden party at Marquis Rembart’s mansion. Rumor has it that the Marquis is looking for someone to paint a mural, so many ambitious artists will surely gather there. That’s why you must attend, Clarette, and catch the Marquis’s eye.>

Just imagining it felt daunting. Most of the artists there would be men, and among them, she would stand out only as ‘the unusual female artist.’

Would the Marquis truly evaluate her fairly?

<You know all too well that there are limits for a woman in this industry.>

“Sigh…”

Recalling Melanie’s words, Clarette let out a bitter sigh. She felt those limits deeply herself.

If her father hadn’t been a painter, she wouldn’t even have had a way to learn to paint in the first place.

‘I still feel like I can’t paint even half as well as Father did…’

Why had he passed away so soon? She wished she could have learned more. She wished he could have stayed by her side longer.

Thinking back on her days with her father, she quietly sighed. She always missed him and felt sorrow, but there was no one to share these feelings with.

Lost in melancholy, Clarette slowly headed to her workspace. She pulled off the white cloth to reveal her still unfinished painting.

It was a tedious study she hadn’t made progress on for days.

‘There’s nothing more I can do to the face. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t paint below the neck to my satisfaction…’

She gazed intently at the mythological figure she’d created with her own hands. She wanted to vividly capture his body, suffering in the cold and hunger, bound to the rock—his twisted muscles and pale skin.

But no matter how she tried to fix it, something about her painting felt awkward.

‘Is this my limit?’

After staring at the painting for a long while, Clarette finally sat down in front of the easel and picked up her charcoal.

* * *

He hadn’t intended to spy in the first place.

But Lionel felt he shouldn’t disturb Clarette while she was absorbed in her painting. He hid at the top of the stairs, then quietly crept down, watching her silhouette through the curtains.

Facing the large canvas, she poured all her focus into her art. Amid the scratch of charcoal, her calm breathing occasionally mixed in.

For Lionel, quietly slipping out of the studio without her noticing wouldn’t have been difficult. But instead of leaving, he hushed his footsteps and approached her.

He wasn’t acting with any clear intention. If anything, it was curiosity that led him.

He wanted to see her paint up close. He wanted to know how she created her art. He wanted to experience the atmosphere of her workspace now that she had returned.

But as he drew closer, step by step, Lionel gradually realized what he truly wanted most.

He wanted Clarette to turn and look at him.

He was now close enough to reach out and touch her. Lionel silently stepped into her shadow.

Unlike her hands, which moved busily on the canvas, her body was completely still. Suppressing the urge to touch her delicate shoulders, Lionel spoke as gently as possible.

“Clarette.”

“…!”

Startled by the sudden voice, Clarette turned around. Her eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected encounter.

“…Duke Valentin?”

Her voice trembled slightly, clearly flustered. She hurriedly stood to face him.

“Why are you here? What are you doing here… No, how did you even get in?”

At a glance, she seemed to be demanding an explanation with boldness. But Lionel quickly noticed that she was more concerned about hiding her painting than anything else. She gripped the white cloth tightly with her right hand, ready to cover the canvas at any moment.

As Clarette wished, he looked straight at her face instead of the painting and replied leisurely.

“To answer your last question first: Getting in was easy. I found a loosely locked window, opened it from the outside, and came in.”

“That’s… isn’t that something only thieves do?”

“In that sense, yes—it does require a bit of know-how.”

He added a habitual joke, but seeing her expression grow cold, Lionel quickly clarified.

“I didn’t do it with bad intentions. I just had a lot I wanted to know about you.”

“About me?”

“That’s right. I wanted to see for myself.”

Lionel slowly approached her, who now seemed a bit calmer.

“How you’re really living. Whether you truly need my support. And… what kind of paintings you actually create.”

Clarette didn’t run away from Lionel as he cautiously drew closer. But she looked up at him, feeling the same anxiety she’d felt at the ducal residence.

Lionel tried to smile as kindly as possible.

“So I just came in for a look. I didn’t break or steal anything. If you’re suspicious, I’ll even allow a body search.”

“I wasn’t suspicious. I didn’t even know anyone had become an intruder.”

“Intruder? That’s a bit harsh.”

“You came in without permission. So, what are your impressions after looking around?”

Her attitude was strangely prickly as she asked. Lionel chose his words carefully.

“It was very interesting. Everything was unfamiliar. I’ve never seen so many paintings in one place before, so it was fascinating.”

“But there’s a gallery handed down for generations at the ducal residence. Surely there are more paintings there.”

“Oh, is there? I wouldn’t know—I’ve never been.”

“…”

So he really has no interest in art. Clarette looked at him as if she’d expected as much, and Lionel gave a short, awkward cough.

“Er, anyway. Now that I’ve seen this place, I understand why you have to spend 500 gold every month.”

His words made her eyes waver slightly. She found herself thinking again about the ducal family’s support, which she’d already given up on. Lionel seemed to read her thoughts and added,

“And, there was one painting I really liked.”

“Really?”

A trace of joy appeared on Clarette’s face. She looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Please tell me which painting you liked. I’ll give it to you, Your Grace.”

“Oh, but…”

“Don’t refuse. My father always painted for the late Duke, so I’m sure he would gladly give you one too.”

But Lionel shook his head with a faint smile.

“The one I liked wasn’t your father’s painting—it was yours.”

“…What?”

Her happy expression darkened in an instant. Surprised by her reaction, Lionel explained further.

“I mean the painting you’re working on now. It’s unfinished, but I liked it. I thought it was wonderful at first sight. You’ll finish it eventually, won’t you?”

Despite his cheerful expression, her face stiffened awkwardly.

“Did you see this painting? Of all things…”

Before Lionel could answer, she murmured in a subdued voice.

“Please don’t think this shows all my skill. This is just a study, and especially one I couldn’t do well. My specialty is still portraiture…”

“Why couldn’t you paint it?”

Clarette paused at his question. Realizing he might have said something wrong, Lionel tried to recover quickly.

“Was that rude? But your job is painting. Is there something a painter can’t paint?”

At his innocent question, Clarette sighed briefly and answered.

“Of course there is. Everything comes from practice, and there’s a huge difference between what you’ve drawn often and what you’ve never properly observed.”

“So, that means…”

Lionel slowly repeated her words, then reached an unexpected conclusion. With a look full of doubt, as if he’d just heard an impossible proposition, he asked,

“Don’t tell me you’ve never properly seen one? A n*ked man’s body.”