Ko-fi shop has been renewed, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
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There were rooms for the staff even in the small cabin. While it was smaller in scale compared to the annex, this place was hardly the kind of cabin one would describe as humble; it was more of a luxurious villa.
At mealtimes, the chef from the annex personally brought food to the cabin. Perhaps because of the Crown Prince’s influence, Diana’s meals were also properly prepared.
Moreover, maids arrived at dawn to clean the interior before disappearing again. By the time Diana woke up at daybreak, the cabin was already spotless. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but compared to the first day, many of the complicated furnishings and items seemed to have vanished.
Was that all? At mealtimes, food would be set on the kitchen table as if by magic, and at bedtime, the bedding was neatly arranged. Every day, fresh bandages and ointments appeared on the side table. Clearly, someone was coming and going without a trace, tending to Diana’s needs.
With the watchful, disapproving eyes that had been monitoring her now gone, she felt a sense of relief.
Still, for a mere maid to be served in such a manner—it was obvious that if this fact were to reach the annex, she would only face more envious glares.
“Master, I can take care of the meals and the bedding myself.”
“That’s not your job. Your task is to erase the flaws on what’s mine. Waiting is getting tedious.”
It seemed the scratches on her body were intolerable by his aesthetic standards. Even though Felix had brought her to this place, he didn’t touch her belongings.
He wasn’t painting, either. There was no need to interpret his actions—he was simply waiting for Diana’s wounds to heal.
If he paints corpses, wouldn’t he like scars as well…?
Or perhaps he had grown weary of lifeless bodies and was now interested in someone perfectly unblemished. Compelled by her master’s silent demands, Diana examined her body, pressing here and there, applying ointment generously to her wounds.
Three days passed this way. Eventually, Felix’s patience, stretched thin by boredom, reached its limit.
Sitting crookedly on the first-floor sofa, mixing pigments, Felix suddenly muttered a curse.
“Damn it. Who’s the master here, anyway?”
“If you need something, I…”
“Stop repeating yourself like a parrot. Come up here. At least your hair color isn’t right.”
The paint on his palette, smeared haphazardly, was a mess of oatmeal, beige, and blonde hues. None of them matched the color of the maid’s hair, and this fact pricked Felix’s pride.
Some colors were too bright, others too muted, and others lacked the desired transparency. Felix, unable to wait even a few seconds for Diana to climb onto the sofa, grabbed a handful of her hair.
Should he cut it?
Would snipping her hair and using it for mixing produce the right shade? But mere approximation wouldn’t satisfy him. It had to be perfect.
Furthermore, cutting Diana’s hair would mean defacing the very subject of his painting.
Even the tiny scratches scattered across her body were displeasing; the idea of cutting her hair was beyond reason. The thought of damaging even a small part of her filled him with intense disgust.
In the end, his thoughts circled back to the beginning. Felix had never faced a dilemma this vexing.
His voice took on a sharper edge.
“Aizen wouldn’t have chosen this for no reason. Did he say I’d find you interesting?”
“No, His Highness didn’t say that… but I overheard Viscount Defierre mentioning it to him. He said it might be a color you’ve never mixed before.”
“Hah!”
Felix let out a derisive laugh, like a madman. The fact that events were unfolding just as his half-brother had predicted grated on his pride. The very idea of being preoccupied with a mere maid was absurd.
A maid, arrogant and blind, who seemed determined to test his nerves at every turn.
Since he had first picked up a brush, Felix had never struggled so much. The image of a nearly completed painting flickered in his mind.
One piece. Just one piece, completed to satisfaction, would settle everything. Whether he sent her back to Aizen, used her as a pawn given her background as a spiritist, or something else entirely—anything would do.
Diana anxiously wetted her lips with her tongue. Observing her sensitive reaction to his presence, Felix’s thoughts shifted once again.
No, sending a woman who could captivate a man like this to someone else seemed far too wasteful. Even worse, he hadn’t been able to truly have Diana yet because of those infuriating bruises.
The desire that had built up over time, unfulfilled in the separate palace, was nearing its breaking point. Felix, reaching his limit, pressed Diana’s head toward his lap.
“Take care of it.”
Diana hesitantly slid off the sofa and knelt before him. With trembling hands, she loosened the loosely tied belt around his waist and revealed the firm presence beneath. Even before her fingers touched it, it was already straining, responding fiercely the moment her fingertips brushed against it.
This is difficult… But, as always, Diana didn’t have a choice.
She reluctantly took the tip into her mouth, but it was already too much. Even though she hadn’t taken in much, her mouth felt full, making it hard to breathe.
Relying on previous experience, she reached out with her hand, gently gripping the base as she used her saliva as lubrication to move her hand rhythmically. Her lips worked diligently, even as faint sounds escaped despite her best efforts to suppress them. The lewd noises, made by her own doing, left her feeling disoriented and humiliated.
“Ah…”
Above her, Felix let out a satisfied groan. Encouraged by his reaction, she used her tongue to trace along the length, pausing to focus on the sensitive tip. His body trembled, and she felt the sharp tension in the air intensify.
“Deeper, Diana.”
Felix’s voice was hoarse, filled with restrained desire.
The firm sensation reached as far as her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. Knowing the discomfort his movements could cause, Diana desperately moved her head back and forth, doing her best to match his rhythm. Her efforts showed marked improvement compared to before.
By the time her jaw ached and her lips grew numb, his body tensed further, and she braced herself. The distinct sensation she remembered from before touched the back of her throat.
“Mm, ugh…”
Diana’s delicate throat moved with difficulty. Despite her attempts, some of the fluid escaped from her lips, running down to her chin. She pulled away, gasping for breath, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
Without a word, Felix reached out and gently wiped the remnants from the corner of her mouth. Then, with a surprising tenderness, he pressed the substance back to her lips, a silent command in his gesture.
Caught off guard, Diana coughed faintly, her discomfort evident in the way her expression twisted.
“….”
After a brief silence, Felix’s fingers carefully swept the residue from her tongue. His actions carried an air of scrutiny, as though confirming there was nothing left behind. Diana blinked in confusion, her lashes damp with unshed tears. A single droplet trailed down her cheek.
Felix, sighing deeply, used his hand to wipe away the substance that had dripped to her chin.
“Damn it… Diana Escalif, even your existence is a weapon. Give me your hand.”
It was only then that Diana realized she had been gripping the edge of his robe with all her strength. Before she could move, Felix took her hand, placing a glass of water in it.
“Rinse.”
Obediently, Diana swirled the water in her mouth, the unpleasant aftertaste gradually fading. Meanwhile, Felix grabbed a napkin from beside the pitcher and cleaned his hands. Satisfied that no traces remained, he released her.
The uncomfortable sensation in her mouth was gone, but the thick aroma of him lingered, overwhelming her senses. Every breath was filled with his presence.
Such a strange man…
Her stomach churned, though whether it was due to what she’d swallowed or the rapid beat of her heart, she couldn’t tell.
Felix lifted her into his arms and settled her in his lap. Picking up a palette from the table, he spoke with measured calmness.
“Stay still. I need to match these colors to your face.”
Diana closed her eyes as his hand stroked through her hair, followed by the cool touch of a brush gliding from her forehead to her temple. Slowly, she felt herself being painted with his chosen colors.
This isn’t right. Her heart thudded uncontrollably.
It felt like she was being pulled into a deep, dark abyss from which she couldn’t escape.
“You must never lose yourself, Diana. A person cannot live if they lose who they are.”
She wanted to ask the father who was no longer in this world.
Dad, tell me how. Tell me how I can harden myself, let no one into my heart, and stand firm on my own.
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The portrait of Pride has opened a ko-fi shop with 5 advanced chapters. Ko-fi shop will be updated with each update in website. Here is the: LINK
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