Chapter 2. The First Meeting

His father had a habit of “picking up” artists whenever he was bored—or to put it more nicely, inviting them over. Always under the pretext of patronage.

The results of that patronage weren’t entirely bad.

The Duke of Bertrand had a remarkable eye for talent, discovering several artists who later became renowned in their time. The connections he built that way gave him considerable influence in society.

So, if one were to weigh the pros and cons, his eccentric behavior clearly leaned toward benefit.

Daniel knew that well enough…

But imagine this: you come home hoping to relax, only to find an unexpected guest waiting for you.

It feels pretty damn awful.

‘I don’t want our house to be an extension of your social circle, Father.’

Daniel moved forward, silently repeating this resigned thought.

“Young Duke.”

“Welcome home, Young Duke.”

The household staff, who had arrived from the main residence, stood in a line outside the mansion. They bowed deeply in greeting, and Daniel nodded in return.

“It’s been a while. You must be tired from the long trip.”

“Not at all, Your Grace.”

While the servants skillfully packed up his belongings, Daniel went to wash up. Biting into a sandwich, he looked out the window and took in the majestic view typical of a university town.

…So, was there really a new face at the estate?

For the past few years, the Duke of Bertrand hadn’t invited anyone in particular. Maybe no artists had caught his discerning eye lately, or perhaps he’d simply grown out of the habit.

Daniel shrugged.

‘Let’s just go see for ourselves.’

The Bertrand duchy estate was located on the outskirts of Treford, the largest city in the northern region of the kingdom.

After passing through a dense coniferous forest, a feature typical of the north, Daniel arrived at the estate, where the butler William awaited him with a polite bow.

Daniel waved his hand lightly.

“It’s been a while, Will! I’m back. Where’s Father?”

“His Grace should be in the study by now.”

“You doing well?”

“Yes. Thank you for asking.”

First, Daniel washed his hands in the basin a servant brought over.

Normally, his sister Francis would have come bounding down the stairs yelling, ‘You’re only just getting home now, you hopeless lazybones!’ But that troublemaker was off traveling this time.

“Thanks.”

He dried his hands with the towel and returned it before heading up the stairs. It wasn’t until he reached the top step that Daniel realized he hadn’t asked the butler about “Father’s guest.”

He glanced down the staircase and, seeing that William had already vanished, gave another shrug.

‘No point chasing after poor William. Might as well corner the man of the house himself down the hall.’

* * *

Daniel knocked politely a couple of times before turning the handle and clicking open the study door.

His father often stayed in the small antechamber inside the study to take care of his work.

The room, filled with rows of books, looked just the same as always. Sunlight poured in through the unusually large windows, while the bookshelves stood firmly in place, strategically avoiding the rays of light.

Was the window open?

A breeze carrying the scent of wood drifted around him. The curtains fluttered softly as Daniel looked around the room.

He moved in a familiar direction—and then stopped.

He took one slow step forward. Then another. Finally, he came to a halt and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Huh?”

It was a girl.

No—perhaps “young lady” would be a more accurate description. There was still a trace of youth in her face.

Wearing an utterly innocent expression, the girl lay fast asleep on the sofa, breathing gently in her slumber. The tips of her feet peeked primly out from under her skirt. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

A sharp nose, slightly parted lips. As Daniel found himself staring at the soft reddish hue of her lips, his gaze wandered as if enchanted.

Lush eyelashes. A smooth, composed forehead. And then—

Her rich chestnut hair fanned out beautifully across the cushion. His fingers twitched at the sight of such thick hair.

Perhaps it was because she looked like a fairy who might vanish at any moment.

‘…I want to touch it.’

Just once—he wanted to gather it in his hand and feel the softness for himself.

Daniel stared for a long while, recognizing the abnormal desire swirling through his mind. Then he moved forward with firm steps, closing the distance at last.

As he let the fine strands slip between his fingers—

The chestnut eyelashes twitched, and her eyelids lifted. Daniel tilted his head slightly and met a dreamy pair of green eyes.

Their jade hue made them look rather cute, heavy with drowsiness.

After a few blinks, the unfocused gaze slowly sharpened. As the girl looked up at him in silence, a deep, vivid green surged in and filled his entire field of vision.

Daniel gazed down at her quietly.

Enjoying the feeling of sinking into absinthe. Aware of time flowing by, yet not truly perceiving it.

“…Ah!”

With a gasp, the girl jerked back and scrambled away on the sofa. Her form curled up tightly in the corner as if trying to hide—it was almost absurd to watch.

At some point, the chestnut hair had slipped from between his fingers. The thirst of an unfulfilled desire only grew sharper.

Ha. Desire?

For that girl?

Daniel looked down at his now-empty hand and let out a faint laugh. Then, without hesitation, he turned around and left the study.

* * *

The moment Claire arrived in the Bertrand duchy alongside the duke, her eyes instinctively fixed on the vast greenery stretching outside the window.

The world outside was a vivid green.

Unlike the southern region of Lenore, which was often shrouded in mist, the north boasted clear summer skies and lively green fields.

Everywhere her gaze landed was refreshing, and every step she took felt crisp and cool.

“It’s so… beautiful.”

“Thank you, Miss Claire.”

The Duke of Bertrand, lord of northern Lenore, wore a proud smile.

“Welcome to my beloved homeland.”

Claire learned the details of the commission the very next day after arriving in the north.

After inviting her to breakfast and enjoying a leisurely meal, the duke took her to the study in the center of the mansion.

“My wife, Caroline.”

At his wistful greeting, Claire quietly raised her head to look at the portrait.

A beautiful woman with honey-gold hair, as if sunlight had been condensed into it, and strikingly blue eyes sat on a balcony.

Plaster-white skin and an enigmatic smile. Elegant arms and a straight back. She was so strikingly beautiful that Claire could easily imagine her having ruled over the social scene.

“She passed away five years ago.”

“My condolences.”

“Well, what can you do about the nature of life?”

‘The precious always seem to leave so suddenly.’

The duke muttered under his breath and gave a slight nod toward the portrait of his wife.

“That’s my request. Paint something to match that portrait.”

“Do you mean matching the attire and the background?”

“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you?”

“Understood. I’ll begin the moment my materials are prepared.”

“No, no, Miss Claire.”

At the sound of the duke clicking his tongue, Claire flinched instinctively.

“Keep this in mind. There’s only one moment when an artist should begin working.”

“…Pardon?”

“The moment the contract is signed and the deposit hits your account.”

She thought he was pushing her to start right away, but it turned out to be something else.

As Claire blinked blankly, the duke shook his head with exaggerated dismay.

“This innocent young lady—how will she ever survive in such a harsh world?”

“Your Grace.”

Claire had meant to add, ‘I’m not that naive,’ but chose to hold her tongue.

Standing before her was a man who had weathered countless storms in both politics and finance. Claiming she wasn’t inexperienced in front of someone like that wouldn’t go over well.

“Live shrewdly, Miss Claire. It makes life a lot easier.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, good.”

The duke chuckled lightly, then stretched his back while leaning on his cane. Just as he patted her shoulder and started walking toward the door, he suddenly paused and spun around.

“Now that I think of it, Miss Claire. I have a favor to ask.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Franny—my daughter. She’s off traveling right now, so she’s out of the picture, but I suspect my boy will be returning soon.”

“I see.”

“I’d like you to keep this commission a secret from him. I don’t mean hiding the finished piece, just the work itself for now.”

Claire tilted her head slightly in confusion.

“I’ll keep the secret, but may I ask why?”

“Because the boy’s got a nasty personality.”

‘He is talking about his own son, right?’

Whether or not he noticed Claire’s gaze falter at the remark, the duke tapped his cane and grumbled.

“You see, Miss Claire, one of the things I truly thank the gods for is that I am his father.”

“…Excuse me?”

“That way, at least I get to scold him properly. If it were the other way around—ugh, I can’t even imagine it.”

What kind of personality does he have?

While Claire was still halfway between disbelief and amusement, the duke sighed deeply, leaning on his cane.

“Anyway… it’s obvious what would happen if my son caught wind of this commission. He’d scoff and call it sentimental nonsense. I can see it now, that damn brat.”

“Pardon? Why, or rather, how come…”

“My wife and I were never particularly faithful to each other.”

Lifting his cane, the duke pointed to the portrait of his wife.

“Just to let you know in advance—that painting was done by Caroline’s last lover.”

“Oh. I… see.”

“That’s why I especially want to keep it from my dear son.”

Because otherwise, he’d sneer, ‘What the hell are you doing now?’

At that added comment, Claire gave a sheepish laugh. She could understand how the duke’s son—the young lord—might feel.

If someone had spent their life cheating, and then suddenly, after their spouse’s death, decided to honor them with a commemorative portrait…

Well. Yeah.

It was almost too ridiculous to believe. No matter how you looked at it.

To begin with, the very idea of hanging a portrait painted by his wife’s lover in his own study—it was hard to understand such generosity.

‘Are all nobles like this?’

Claire quickly gathered her thoughts and bent her knees to offer a proper bow to the duke.

“Of course, Your Grace. I will keep it a secret.”

“Thank you. Then from this moment on, you’re a free woman until the lawyer arrives.”

The duke gave her a playful wink.

“Enjoy your little vacation.”

And so, Claire spent the next few days enjoying the study.

She let herself dwell on memories of her parents and savored her longing for them.

She wandered around the late duchess’s portrait with curiosity, pulled out a book to read, remembered her parents again, and then quietly vowed to live her life to the fullest on her own.

Then one fine afternoon—

With birds chirping outside the window, she buried her head in a cushion. She had a feeling that she was about to dream something warm and familiar.

Sleep came swiftly, and the dream was sweet.

So sweet that she didn’t want to wake up.

It was the kind of dream that made you wish you could stay in that unconscious world forever.

And when she was suddenly awakened by the presence of someone nearby, Claire saw—more than anything in the world—the most beautiful being she had ever laid eyes on.