Chapter 88

The very first color Clarette dipped her brush into was a deep blue. Lionel recognized the color instantly and smiled with satisfaction.

“Marina Blue. Are you really using that precious color for my painting?”

“Yes, I’m painting the background blue. That way, your body will stand out more.”

“It might make me look too pale, though.”

“Don’t worry. Even though it’s my painting, your body is truly… beautiful.”

Lionel couldn’t even force a laugh at Clarette’s sincere praise. Her earnest compliments had a magical effect that made people feel at a loss.

‘Beautiful… Clarette is the only one who’s ever said that to me.’

Countless women who tried to seduce Lionel all said the same things: handsome, dashing, manly. They were all good words and suited him well.

But only Clarette focused on his beauty.

Before meeting her, if anyone had called him beautiful, Lionel would have felt uncomfortable. He always thought such words were reserved for women.

But now, he could fully appreciate the other meanings behind it.

To be beautiful meant to be ideal, something one wanted to pursue. It was an expression of desire to possess the other, and also a feeling of awe.

‘Clarette is an artist. That’s why she describes me with those words and likes that part of me.’

Lionel unconsciously tensed his muscles a little. Clarette said she liked him as he was, but he still wanted to look better. He wanted to be etched into her memory as even more excellent and ideal.

Artists love beautiful things.

So, if he could be a more ideal model for Clarette than now—even if it was just an illusion—wouldn’t that be enough?

Maybe she would think, “I might be falling in love with this man.”

‘Even if it’s just an illusion.’

If Lionel could keep captivating Clarette, nothing else mattered.

He felt a deep pleasure whenever her gaze lingered on his body. If she looked elsewhere, even if she was just focusing on coloring, he felt impatient and disappointed.

But what if she no longer found his body attractive and stopped asking him to model for her?

For example, what if she wanted to use another man as her model instead of him?

Could he accept that? Lionel knew he couldn’t.

<I won’t be looking for any other male models for a while.>

The day he first modeled, Clarette had said that. She would paint him now, but it didn’t mean she’d always paint only him.

At the time, Lionel felt only mild displeasure at her words. But now, seeing her as his proper lover, even imagining such a thing was unbearable.

Another man undressing before Clarette and monopolizing her gaze—

He could never allow it….

“Lionel.”

While Lionel was lost in dark thoughts, Clarette suddenly called him in a voice as if making an important announcement.

Lionel relaxed his stiff face and looked at her as calmly as possible.

On Clarette’s brush was now the green named after her. She smiled at Lionel, pleased.

“It’s finished. I finally completed the first painting.”

That bright smile swept away all the gloomy thoughts from Lionel’s mind. He smiled genuinely at Clarette and asked,

“That color… Did you use ‘Clarette’ too?”

“Yes, I finished it with this at the end. It’s not fully dry yet… Will you come take a look?”

Clarette’s face was flushed, excited to have finished her first n*de painting. Lionel relaxed from the familiar pose and walked over to her.

“I drew your expression with your eyes slightly lowered. I wanted to capture your eyes, and your eyelashes, too…”

Clarette shyly explained her intentions. Listening to her excited, high-pitched voice, Lionel finally faced his completed n*de painting.

Surprisingly, the painting exceeded his expectations.

“…Clarette, didn’t you say this was just practice?”

“Yes. It’s not a mythological painting yet, just a portrait of you.”

“But for a practice piece, this is…”

Lionel was at a loss for words, staring blankly at his painting.

The man in the painting, once just white, was now shaded perfectly and seemed ready to stride out of the canvas.

As Clarette said, the blue background made his skin stand out even more. The green ‘Clarette’ sofa and shadows added vibrancy to the calm background.

The painting before and after completion seemed to cross some boundary—it was a completely different existence. Lionel sincerely admired the painting that had evolved so perfectly in just a few hours.

Clarette praised his body for being beautiful, but truly, wasn’t her artistry the most beautiful and remarkable thing?

“Now I just need to dry it somewhere safe. I painted a lot today, so I can’t dry it in the studio. I need to leave it somewhere Diane won’t wander in…”

Chattering happily, Clarette suddenly paused as if she remembered something. She cautiously asked Lionel, who was still absorbed in the painting,

“Lionel, could you do me a favor?”

“Of course. Just tell me.”

“Can you help me move this painting? There’s a place I can confidently tell Diane not to enter.”

“Really? Is there such a place in the annex?”

“Yes.”

Clarette hesitated, then added,

“My bedroom.”

An unexpected answer made Lionel, who had been focused on the painting, look straight at her. Clarette avoided his gaze, feeling awkward at his questioning expression.

“If it’s too much, I can move it myself. It’s really not that heavy—I can carry it alone…”

“But you still asked me to help, right?”

Lionel’s sharp question made Clarette fall silent. He grinned as if he’d caught her and murmured in a suggestive voice,

“You could do it alone, but you’re asking me. You want me to come to your bedroom…”

“I didn’t ask in a sneaky way!”

Clarette protested, but Lionel laughed quietly and kissed her cheek. While she was speechless from the sudden kiss, he cheerfully picked up his clothes.

“If you want it, I’ll do it. Just open the door. I’ll handle the heavy lifting.”

* * *

Clarette opened the studio door and carefully peeked into the hallway. The annex corridor was dark and empty, and even the main residence in the distance was unlit.

“Let’s go, Lionel. We won’t get caught.”

Lionel thought it felt like carrying out a mission as he wheeled the easel with the canvas. It was very light for him, but Clarette would have struggled with its weight.

“Your bedroom is at the end of the corridor, right? The paint still smells—where are you going to put it?”

“I’m going to leave it in the dressing room and open that window. I don’t want to open the window by the bed.”

Clarette led the way, quickly opened the bedroom door, lit the lamp, and gestured. Lionel, feeling more like a porter than a lover, calmly crossed the threshold.

“Here, put it in the shaded spot.”

He placed the easel safely in the dressing room, as she instructed. When Clarette opened the window, the smell of oil paint around the easel faded in the night breeze.

Meanwhile, Lionel stepped back and looked at his painting with a troubled expression.

“The painting is nice, but… if anyone sees it, we’re in trouble.”

A n*de painting of Duke Valentin in a woman’s bedroom—if the existence of this painting became known, the ducal residence would be embroiled in a terrible scandal.

Clarette came closer and looked at the painting with him.

“Now you understand what I meant? Being my n*de model is really risky. Your honor could collapse overnight.”

“That’s true. Seeing it finished, it looks much more provocative than I thought. This is…”

Clarette paused, worried he might quit being her n*de model. She quickly turned to look at him, but Lionel spoke seriously,

“I think this model deserves proper compensation. What do you think?”

He joked with a serious face, and Clarette sighed in relief. As Lionel wrapped his arm around her waist for a kiss, Clarette suddenly spoke,

“Lionel, about what we promised…”

Now it was Lionel’s turn to pause. She took a deep breath and looked up into his blue eyes.

“Shall we do it here tonight?”

“Here…?”

“Yes, my bedroom… on my bed.”

Lionel stared blankly, unable to respond. Clarette calmly explained her reasoning,

“The bed is wide enough for both of us to lie down.”

She finished and waited for his reaction.

But his hand around her waist didn’t move at all.

Oh, maybe he doesn’t want to tonight? Clarette murmured anxiously,

“Of course, it’s much smaller than your bed, Your Grace…”