Chapter 95

‘Of course. They must have spent a lot of time together, and Thiago even had Clarette paint his portrait.’

If so, where is the portrait Clarette painted of Thiago now? Is he the one keeping it?

At the house in the capital where he wanted to take Clarette.

Thinking he wanted to get rid of that painting, Lionel spoke in his usual voice.

“Come to think of it, Thiago Salto was at the hunting tournament, wasn’t he?”

At the mention of that name, Clarette paused for a moment. She replied as if nothing was wrong.

“That’s right. I heard Earl Crowley commissioned him for a landscape of the tournament.”

“Did he approach you? Among all those nobles, you two are the only ones who know each other.”

In fact, it was Clarette who spoke to him first. She hesitated, then skipped over the details.

“I did talk with Thiago. I…”

If she said she had something to ask, Lionel would want to know. Then she’d have to mention the portrait of his mother.

Clarette tried hard to craft an unfamiliar lie.

“…He asked me for a favor. Something about painting.”

“Thiago asked you? What?”

“He wants to paint me again. As a model.”

“He wants to paint your portrait again?”

“No. This time, he asked me to be a model for a mythological painting.”

Lionel’s eyebrows rose slightly. His voice dropped.

“If it’s a mythological painting, wouldn’t you have to undress? In front of him?”

“He wouldn’t go that far. Thiago is well sponsored, so he could just hire a professional n*de model with a great figure. If he paints me, it’ll probably just be my face.”

That couldn’t be. If Lionel were the artist, he’d want her body, too.

Lionel quietly furrowed his brow, swallowing his discomfort. Thiago was someone who even considered marrying Clarette.

That man would call her, meet her in a private room, tell her to look at him, lower her shoulders, straighten her back, and move her body as he pleased…

“That’s awfully shameless. Modeling takes a lot of effort, and he’s asking you so boldly? What did he offer in return?”

Lionel’s voice was tinged with sharpness. Clarette gulped nervously.

She glanced at the ruined portrait hidden beside the table and answered,

“Don’t worry, I refused right away. I don’t want another new nickname.”

“…Good, you made the right choice.”

Lionel finally relaxed and picked up his clothes. He had been looking forward to going to the bedroom with Clarette after finishing the session, but the unexpected conversation bothered him.

Lionel remembered the portrait of Clarette he saw at the Rosenta National Art Museum. It emphasized her feminine softness, subtly different from her actual appearance.

<This is how I understood you.>

Clarette had said that on the day she finished Lionel’s first n*de painting.

As if a painter doesn’t simply transfer what they see onto the canvas, but recreates it as they understand it.

So, the lovely, gentle, innocent-looking portrait of Clarette was Thiago’s interpretation of her.

Lionel tried to quietly suppress his subtle discomfort, but it wasn’t easy.

Was there any way to have that portrait taken down from the crowded museum? Should he ask the Crown Prince directly? Or maybe request the Imperial Family to buy the painting?

But even if the painting was hidden away, the time they spent working together wouldn’t disappear. Both Thiago and Clarette would remember those days whenever they saw the painting.

Lionel, too, would remember the time spent in her studio forever.

‘Of course, what happened with Thiago is all in the past. What matters more is the future.’

Lionel calmly composed himself. Thiago wouldn’t use Clarette as a model again. But for Clarette, who would keep painting, new possibilities would open up.

<No man wants to show his n*ked body to a female painter. They think it’s disgraceful.>

That’s true now, but as Clarette grows as an artist, she’ll start getting commissions for mythological paintings.

With enough payment to hire male n*de models—or even to specify a particular man as the model.

While buttoning his shirt, Lionel imagined Clarette painting another man’s n*de.

Staring intently at that man’s body with the same serious gaze she used with him. Transferring that man’s most beautiful image onto an eternal canvas.

Such a meaningful act, Clarette with another man.

‘But I can’t stop her.’

Lionel took a deep breath, trying to shake off his bitter feelings. If he acted on his desires, he’d want her to allow only him.

To look only at him, to paint only him.

<I want to reach the very top.>

But Clarette’s dream was in a place so high it seemed unreachable. She wanted to step into the realm of a master recognized by everyone.

So, he had to trust and support her. Lionel didn’t want to be a ceiling that held Clarette down, like other men. He wanted to be the foundation that let her reach anywhere.

He’d been drawn to Clarette’s unwavering path, and that’s what led him here.

Fully dressed, Lionel walked toward her. With the day’s work finished, it was finally the time both had been waiting for.

But Clarette quietly looked up at Lionel’s oddly subdued gaze. From his face—missing even a faint smile—she read his complicated feelings.

‘Somehow… it feels like he’s jealous.’

She couldn’t know everything Lionel was thinking. But Clarette remembered how sensitive he’d been to the topic of Thiago.

Tonight, Lionel truly seemed like a lover. It was unfamiliar, but she didn’t dislike his sharp, anxious demeanor—so different from usual.

He seemed like a man deeply, sincerely in love.

‘Maybe Lionel… loves me?’

Beyond simply liking, beyond physical attraction—a desperate feeling wanting to possess the other for life, to keep them close at any cost.

Did this man harbor such feelings for her?

But Clarette couldn’t gauge the depth of that heart. Actually, she didn’t want to look too closely.

She was satisfied just being Lionel’s lover. That was the last stage they could reach together.

Anything beyond that—like marriage or having children—had never been considered.

If Clarette married him, it would be a scandal bigger than any gossip in the Empire.

They’d be tied together, talked about everywhere, and Clarette’s name would again be overshadowed by a new title.

Instead of “Flower in a Frame,” she’d be known as the commoner-born duchess.

That was a title Clarette truly didn’t want. Its impact would wipe out the small reputation she’d built as an artist.

‘Lionel will eventually have to marry another woman. Right now, he can’t think about marriage because of his debts, but once they’re paid off, he’ll naturally start talking with other noble families about matches—probably as soon as next spring.’

Summer, autumn, winter. She could only remain his lover for those three seasons to come.

Clarette thought that would be enough. Not long enough to become deeply attached, but plenty of time to enjoy the sweetness of romance.

She decided to be content with that.

“Lionel.”

Clarette spoke in a calm, steady voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Because I like you best.”

She gently held onto Lionel’s coat. Feeling his warm body through the fabric, the complicated thoughts in her mind melted away.

Clarette looked up at Lionel’s handsome face and smiled to reassure him.

“Now, hold me.”