Hendrik glanced sideways at the teacup Henrietta had left untouched, now cold. William had a point. Serving tea before a guest arrived was not something that suited Hendrik at all.

But the truth was that he simply wanted to treat the woman, who would undoubtedly arrive with her pride wounded, with perfect formality.

She was the kind of woman who wore her composure like armour, never letting a hair fall out of place, always guarding against any hint of vulnerability.

The only flaw was the way her long, striking lashes trembled slightly when she became overwhelmed by emotion.

“So, Henrietta Maybelle Osborne — do you like her?”

‘That kind of woman. Do I like her?’

Well…

“A painting.”

“What?”

She looked like a painting. The woman and the setting in which she was sitting.

She was like an oil painting that had been left alone for many years. The ripples on the lake were vivid, yet the woman sitting on the boat seemed weightless.

Had their eyes met? They couldn’t have, and yet that day, Hendrik felt as though he had glimpsed the entirety of Henrietta’s weary life.

That must be why he couldn’t just pass her by. It was like a breathtaking landscape painting at an exhibition that you can’t move on from; you are stuck in place for a while, staring.

“So what, you mean she’s beautiful like a painting?”

No, if he had to describe the setting in which she existed, he would use a more desolate word. It’s not that she wasn’t beautiful. She was. But ‘beautiful’ didn’t seem enough.

To put it simply, he wanted her. If he pushed all other thoughts aside and was honest about his initial reaction, that was it.

She was like a masterpiece you saw in an exhibition and couldn’t stop thinking about after returning home.

That calm, composed painting — the kind of woman who seemed to shift into completely different colours at sunset.

“Yes, she’s a woman with very graceful lines. I didn’t notice that at first, but I do now.”

William continued to ponder what Hendrik might have meant while Hendrik gently ran his fingers over the handle of the now-cold teacup.

The vivid red petal decoration on the handle seemed to bloom and wither beneath his fingertips. That smooth sensation brought her image back into focus.

“Well, you were quite famous in Huntingford.”

Hendrik slowly closed his eyes. The image of Henrietta’s long, pale neck, impossible to hide even under her raised collar, grew clearer. Moments of her expression changing over that slender line flashed through his mind.

So… did he like her? When she occupied his thoughts like this, he couldn’t exactly say no.

Yes, maybe that’s OK. She was beautiful. And he had always loved beautiful things.

“All the most prized items in Huntingford’s auctions ended up belonging to you.”

Those things meant nothing to him now, but back then, it was true. Hendrik had once taken great pleasure in filling empty rooms with beautiful art.

Whether it was under the pretense of soothing an unquenchable hunger or simply a display of ego masked as pride, there had been such trivial days.

“Do you remember that painting I asked for?”

Do you remember? As if something like that would remain in his memory!

Hendrik wasn’t sure which painting William was referring to, but it was probably one of the many things he’d left behind without a second thought when he left Huntingford.

Unlike others, who clung to things out of sentimentality or an obsessive attachment, Hendrik found it easy to let go. That, too, was simply his way of dealing with life.

“I begged you about it for three days—just once, I begged you to give it to me. Do you remember, the Crown of Sabienne?”

The moment he heard the title, the painting came vividly to mind.

It was a portrait of a goddess with the face of a young girl, her pale blonde hair falling loosely to her waist. She wore a plain white muslin dress with no adornments, her bare chest exposed. She was beautiful enough to be called perfect, wearing a crown painted with such precision it looked nearly lifelike.

There had been all sorts of speculation about who the woman in the painting really was, but in the end, her identity was never confirmed.

William had once fallen in love with the woman in the painting. He would talk at length about how, whenever he looked into her mysterious green eyes, it felt as if Sabienne herself might step out of the painting and speak to him.

“Since we’re on the topic—give it to me now.”
“Give you what?”
Did Sabienne even still exist? Hendrik vaguely remembered giving it to a deputy minister of defence during a bidding war for a military ship supply contract in Huntingford — either into their hands or down their throat.

“Sabienne.”

No, that couldn’t be it. There’s no way he would have given something that the second prince of the royal family desired to a mere deputy minister.

“No.”
“Why not? You don’t even know exactly where Sabienne is right now. So why say no?”

Because, first of all—it’s mine.

Without replying, Hendrik gave a crooked grin. William muttered a curse so vulgar it was unfitting for royalty, earning a hearty laugh from Hendrik that shook his chest.

“I’ll give you Sabienne—if you do me one favor.”
“A favor? What kind?”

He didn’t want to seem too eager, but his body had already leaned towards Hendrik.

If swallowing his pride was the price, so be it. The thought of displaying that breathtaking face in his room, so that he could gaze at it day and night, made the royal dignity he was supposed to uphold seem utterly meaningless.

“If I told you now, it would be a long story. Just wait a little while.”

Of course. William cursed again, loudly and harshly.

“Do you know how many times you’ve strung me along like this? I’ve lost count. Forget it. I’ll just have the royal painter recreate it.”

“If you don’t want a fake, then wait. I’ll personally bring it to your wedding as a gift.”

“How generous of you.”

Hendrik chuckled quietly, picturing the look on William’s face when he finally received Sabienne and imagining his future wife’s expression as she stood beside him.

“By the way, what’s this I heard about the Jordy family’s ship being held at the docks? Where did you even get that information?”

“There wasn’t much to investigate. The stench of rotting fish was everywhere.”

Surprisingly, William said nothing in response. Usually, if he didn’t get what he wanted, he would grab Hendrik by the collar and shake the answers out of him.

The fact that he was now sitting silently, deep in thought, caused Hendrik’s brows to draw together.

‘This was definitely suspicious behaviour.’

In fact, this behaviour had been suspicious since that very morning.

“Hey…”

‘As if there’s really something to begin with, you pampered prince.’

Hendrik tilted his head slightly at the lukewarm opening — it was so unlike William. It made it seem as though William was doing Hendrik a favour just by pretending to listen.

Yet William couldn’t bring himself to speak right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his silver hair.

The sunlight pouring in made each strand glow with a translucent shimmer. Today of all days, William looked the very picture of an elegant young nobleman.

Even someone galloping past on horseback might have glanced at him and thought, ‘He must be a prince.’ The way he stood there, deep in thought, only added to this impression.

“Never mind.”

Never mind? What do you mean, never mind?

It was the kind of strange behaviour that made you narrow your eyes instinctively, but Hendrik didn’t press him.

After all, as long as William remained himself, it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t keep quiet and started revealing information that Hendrik hadn’t even asked for.

“So… I’ve been wondering. Are all women like that?”

‘There it is.’

William couldn’t wait for Hendrik to lower his long legs properly before speaking again.

Feeling thirsty, he reached for the teacup intended for Henrietta.

“Don’t touch that!”

William, who had been wearing a blank expression, let out a soft sigh and quietly withdrew his outstretched hand when Hendrik spoke in a sudden, commanding tone.

“Thanks.”

Hendrik stood up and summoned the hotel staff who had been waiting outside. Meanwhile, the prince said something even stranger than usual, given that he was already odd.

“I’ve never taken a long trip like this before I came to Baron Cohen. You know what royal travel is like…”

Of course he knew. Huntingford had always been more prosperous and peaceful than anywhere else.

In summer, they stayed at the summer palace in a cooler region and, in winter, they went to a milder place with a winter palace.

Royal travel simply meant enjoying pleasures that had been perfectly prepared in advance.

When Hendrik opened the door, the hotel manager, who had been waiting outside, stepped forward at once.

Out of habit, Hendrik curled the corner of his lips into a smile.

“I’d like another cup of tea, please.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

As soon as the door closed and Hendrik turned around, William — who had been acting strangely all day — made another comment.

“That train trip meant a lot to me.”

‘Not uncomfortable?’

“Oh, it was uncomfortable, of course. It’s not like Noah has fifteen arms or anything.”

William responded to a question that hadn’t even been asked, as if he could read Hendrik’s mind.

Hendrik recalled how Noah, the capable attendant who shadowed William like a second self, had once placed William’s hat on his own head simply because there was nowhere else to put it.

“But honestly, my heart was so full that it didn’t matter. OK, my body was sore from following you around on all those bizarre cliff trails, but never mind.”

After that, William stopped offloading all his little burdens onto Noah. Come to think of it, it was hard to say whether that made him flexible and generous or simply indifferent. He was a prince of many contradictions.

“So anyway… are they all like that?”

Even when Hendrik pulled a slightly annoyed face, as if this was starting to get tiresome, William paid it no mind. Perhaps that thick-skinned obliviousness was his secret to survival; perhaps it was how he managed to remain so unbothered as the second son in the ruthless Huntingford royal family.

“I mean, I’ve seen how commoners and nobles live, sure. But that doesn’t mean I actually understand their lives.”

“…”

“So, is it normal for ordinary women to be unable to defend themselves when attacked?”

In that instant, Hendrik’s eyes flashed sharply. The door opened at that very moment and the hotel manager entered, carrying the tea that Hendrik had ordered.

“What do you mean by that?”

Hendrik was always a man of few words, but he fell completely silent whenever staff were present.

Such discretion had long been second nature to him, instilled by years of surviving Huntingford’s treacherous world.

Feeling slightly taken aback, William glanced sideways at his friend.

“Exactly what I said.”

Leaning far back in his chair, William gave the hotel manager a gentle smile.

At his quiet command to ‘Just leave it and go’, the manager quickly took the hint and left.

“I mean yesterday.”

“…”

“But what’s with that look?”

William shook his head at Hendrik’s piercing glare that clearly said: Enough talk — just explain!

“Evelyn. That common girl.”

At the unexpected name, Hendrik tilted his head slightly.

Evelyn. William said that name several times yesterday, too.

He always said it with that phrase — ‘that common girl’ — tacked on the end, as if it were part of her actual name.