“Guys,” Seraphie calmly explained to Marine and Tara in a soothing tone. “Sir Felicia and I are just working together.”
The reason she seemed in a good mood was because being with him meant making a lot of money. The reason they seemed to have many conversations was that she learned a lot from the stories he told. And when she was silent when alone, it was simply because she was thinking to herself.
“Unnecessary misunderstandings could trouble Sir Felicia. Let’s keep our imaginations in our heads,” Seraphie neatly wrapped up the conversation, leaving no room for the maids to misinterpret.
Disappointed by the response that was completely different from their expectations, the two maids left, each carrying a box. Seraphie, watching their dejected figures disappear, shook her head.
How cute. Seraphie was amused by their misunderstanding.
In Seraphie’s vocabulary, there was no room for romance. If she were ever given the chance to return to the world she originally lived in, she would never hesitate because of someone else.
“But it seems like Master is in a good mood whenever you return from an outing with Sir Felicia…”
Seraphie, lounging comfortably on the sofa, absentmindedly touched her lips. It’s not like that. There was certainly a pleasure in looking at a natural beauty up close. The beauty of Orkis had a remarkably calming effect on the mind. Being with him is definitely more comfortable than being with others.
Orkis was the only person who showed no sympathy toward Seraphie. Even in the original story, he was often described as indifferent and uninterested in others. Though he does nag a lot for someone like that. If it weren’t for his beauty and solid build, Seraphie might have considered sewing his nagging mouth shut.
Come to think of it, that man was nagging at me from the first time we met. Seraphie crossed her arms and recalled their first encounter. The voice that had nagged her not to gamble if she wanted to win the forced succession trial was still vivid in her memory. What a funny guy. Though she could laugh it off now, at the time, it had driven her crazy. But looking back, she realized how impressive it was that someone would nag even a stranger.
“Master,” the butler called Seraphie. “The paintings from the gallery have arrived.”
“Really?” Seraphie stood up from her seat.
“And someone who says they were called by you has also arrived.”
“What’s their name?” The long roll of paper in her hand lightly swayed.
“He said his name is Aidal.”
“Show him to the parlor.” Seraphie turned, saying she would go ahead and wait.
…She seems to be in a good mood. The butler recalled the bright smile that had briefly appeared on Seraphie’s face. Well, it’s almost time for her appointment with Sir Felicia. He mused, thinking that would explain her smile. But that smile quickly vanished the moment she met the visitor.
“It’s an honor to meet the renowned Countess!”
Aidal introduced himself enthusiastically, but Seraphie tried not to pay him much attention.
“…Yes.” She replied bluntly.
“When I heard that I was going to be sponsored by Countess, I was overwhelmed with emotion.”
Every time Aidal spoke, Seraphie’s mind wavered. Seraphie had resolved to sponsor anyone who showed sincerity, no matter who they were. Still, she had harbored a bit of expectation. Perhaps this person was diligent or maybe a bit prickly?
“It’s not something I like to brag about, but I’ve caught the eye of many nobles before…”
But she had never expected someone so full of self-love.
“Countess’s choice was not wrong. The fact that you took a liking to me is proof of that.”
What? Seraphie was taken aback. She felt herself being sucked into a nonsensical world as his absurd logic continued.
“I heard from the gallery that Countess bought all the sketches, not just mine…” Aidal stopped mid-sentence.
At that, Seraphie’s cold, blue eyes flashed menacingly. “Who told you that?”
It was supposed to be a secret that Seraphie had bought all their sketches. The works were initially intended for sponsorship connections. Still, because she bought them all, the artists would lose the opportunity for sponsorship for a while. Thus, she purchased their work at a price slightly above three months’ wages for commoners as a form of self-atonement. She had pitied their efforts and had pitied her own past.
At the same time, Seraphie reminded the gallery that she had a strong interest in art. Even though it wouldn’t have much effect with wealthy families as regular patrons, it was still better than doing nothing. In any case, Seraphie had asked them to keep it quiet. But now, Aidal was spilling the beans.
“Ah, that…” Realizing his mistake, Aidal stumbled over his words. The confidence he had displayed just moments before quickly fading.
I’ll have to deal with this later. Seraphie thought, recalling the face of the gallery staff who had been kind to her. In any case, the gallery had made a big mistake with her. It was perfect to use as leverage.
“First.”
But before that, Seraphie had something to teach Aidal. It was a sense of knowing one’s place.
“You are not yet one of my sponsored artists,”
The bluntness and coldness of her words cracked Aidal’s expression. Seraphie tried to project as much dignity and fear as she could. Fortunately, a good model came to mind quickly—the world’s most self-assured nagger.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard or how you heard it, but I only said I wanted to meet the person who drew this painting,” she said, pointing to the still-wrapped sketch on the table. She had already informed the gallery that she would meet the artist first and only then decide whether to sign a sponsorship contract.
“I-Isn’t that the same as sponsoring?” Aidal’s voice was tinged with displeasure.
“No, it’s not.”
In fact, it was Seraphie who was annoyed and irritated. She couldn’t understand what this person was relying on to act so brazenly in front of her. Even if she didn’t expect him to be groveling, as a countess, she expected at least some level of respect from a commoner. Her disappointment was immense.
“…If you don’t believe me, go ask the gallery. At that time, Lady Mars and the third prince were also there.”
“T-The prince…!”
Aidal’s face turned pale. Ridiculously, only then did he quickly correct his previously slouched posture.
I have a lot of work ahead of me. Seraphie thought, reflecting on her mistake of letting Aidal’s two-faced behavior slide. The reason Aidal showed such an attitude was because Seraphie’s reputation as a noble was still extremely low.
“Want me to confirm it myself?” Seraphie asked with a crooked smile.
“N-No!” Aidal quickly replied.
Thanks to this, Seraphie quickly understood what kind of person he was. Brazen if he thought he could get away with it, but weak in the face of authority and a complete opportunist.
Should I just dismiss him? Though talent and character often don’t correlate, Aidal’s character was far too lacking. However, she couldn’t dismiss him because his sketch’s art style evoked memories of a past world that made her feel deeply nostalgic.
Art Nouveau. It was very similar to the style of a painter she had loved in the world she had lived in before. This will definitely make money.
The empire loved flowers and plants. In such an empire, an art style that used plants and other natural elements as decorations would soon shine brightly.
Seraphie spoke in a flat voice. “But I know your skills are exceptional.”
It would certainly be profitable and also remind her of the world she once lived in. Forcing herself to remember this, Seraphie tapped the packaged painting beside her with her finger.
Seeing this, Aidal’s face tensed. He realized that Seraphie was giving him one last chance.
“So, let’s see your skills.”
“Skills…?” Aidal asked in a tone much more respectful than before.
“Draw something.”
A maid standing behind Seraphie handed Aidal a sketchbook and a pencil.
“You wouldn’t want to waste the effort you’ve put in to get this far, would you?”
Aidal quickly began to draw something when he was instructed to show his skills.
His gaze is quite serious.
Even though Aidal was an artist, his face became quite serious as he moved his pencil. Seraphie kept her eyes on the paper, and Aidal gradually filled it. For a moment, she thought her gaze might distract him, but her curiosity about his drawing kept her watching. In any case, her expectations were high.
Seraphie, who had wealth in her grasp, now had to build a reputation that no one could belittle. This painting will be the cornerstone to elevate my honor and dignity. For the nobles, art wasn’t just about accumulating wealth. It was a complex ‘means’ that elevated their noble and vanity-filled superiority.
Maybe it’s fortunate that he’s this kind of person. The discomfort she felt about using innocent art for her goals seemed to ease slightly.
“…”
Seraphie’s blue eyes fixed on the drawing. As the lines and shading gradually filled in, the paper began to resemble something of a completed picture. Watching this, she made a strange face, then her lips curved into a smile. “Impressive.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Aidal said, puffing up with pride.
“No.”
Seraphie’s murmured words lacked a subject, sounding almost like humility. It’s not a compliment.
With each step towards completion, Seraphie became more certain. Aidal wasn’t the true artist who had drawn the sketch that had captivated her.
* * *
The next day, Seraphie visited the Felicia estate. It was the final meeting before the excavation began in earnest.
“Do you agree with this, Countess?” Orkis asked for confirmation as they finished their last discussions.
The first excavation on The Land Abandoned by God was to be carried out with the Magic Tower.
“The Magic Tower will ensure the drilling is done safely. My younger sister will simultaneously check the mining capacity with her magic…”
Orkis, in the middle of explaining something, noticed something strange. Seraphie, who always responded with sincere interest whenever he explained something, was unusually quiet. Not only that, but she had a disgusted look on her face as she scribbled something on a piece of paper.
Orkis glanced at what Seraphie was writing. So, who ends up dying…?
In sharp handwriting, the word ‘burial’ was grotesquely scrawled.
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