Ko-fi shop has been renewed, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
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Within a span of two weeks, both the Butler and the head chef died in succession. Diana had thought that the Crown Prince was isolated in this detached palace, but the reality was a little different.
“Did I not tell you to keep them alive, Your Highness? The dead cannot be punished, nor can we extract information from them. Shouldn’t we uncover who’s behind all this?”
Duke Kristen spoke each word with intensity, trying to suppress his anger. The old duke had visited the detached palace as early as dawn. He immediately went up to the third floor to find his nephew.
“There is a limit to what I can handle at this point. What good could come from the fact that more bodies are turning up from the Crown Prince’s residence during such an important time?”
Duke Kristen was the younger brother of the late Empress. He was also the leader of the faction that supported the Crown Prince.
At the same time, he was an excellent strategist and instigator. He had been the one to promote the Crown Prince, Felix, as a gentle and weak-hearted figure, ingraining this image into the minds of the people.
In fact, even the term ‘embellishment’ would be an understatement. He hadn’t just wrapped up Felix as a beautiful figure; he had completely created a new person altogether.
But even so…
“I know you’re not particularly interested in the succession to the throne, but you should at least pretend to cooperate, Nephew. How many people have put their lives on the line for you?”
“I don’t even know what crime I’ve committed.”
The Crown Prince was lying flat on the sofa.
For once, he wasn’t looking at a canvas. The canvas on the easel was a brand-new one, not even a charcoal sketch had been made on it. It looked like the previous canvas had been removed and replaced with the new one.
An unfinished canvas had been discarded on the carpet. Duke Kristen was struck with a grim sense of desolation as he looked at the sketch, which was disturbingly realistic.
It was undoubtedly a portrait.
The image showed Harper, dead, slumped over a table and chair, drenched in blood. His eyes wide open, dirty sauce smeared around his lips, limbs and fingers twisted at unnatural angles. The sketch was meticulous, without a single flaw. Duke Kristen had seen many works where monochrome sketches were filled with color, and how a masterpiece was born from them.
That talent had started to show signs of deviation thirteen years ago.
But it hadn’t always been that way. Felix had first picked up a brush at the age of six, under the encouragement of his mother, the Empress. There were even days when the world praised him as a naturally talented artist, aside from his absolute position as the Crown Prince.
The portraits the boy had painted still hung in the innermost part of the Imperial Palace’s exhibition hall. That was how much the Emperor cherished them.
However, the boy who used to extract the emotions trapped within his subjects, and who painted them with precision and clarity, was no more. Now, the only thing that appeared on his canvases were grotesque, decaying bodies. The only emotions he extracted were fear, terror, fear. Nothing else.
The man who painted ugly pictures with beautiful hands spoke casually.
“I’m the victim, Duke. I’ve already escaped from the 132nd assassination attempt.”
“I’m not saying you weren’t victimized. What I’m saying is that if you’ve been harmed, you need to prove that harm and take measures to handle the aftermath.”
“Isn’t that the most perfect evidence? The time, the place, the cause of death—it’s all there.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do with that…?”
The people of the Empire knew their Crown Prince as a delicate artist who wept at the falling leaves of autumn. They could never have imagined him holed up in a detached palace, creating such cursed images.
“Because of the painting you sent to Prince Aizen, he’s spreading bad rumors about you. Your reputation has been carefully maintained, and only a few people are paying attention to these malicious rumors. But if you keep acting so uncooperative like this, everything you’ve built could collapse in an instant.”
“The one in danger is the fake Crown Prince you’ve created.”
“Your Highness!”
“Keep living with your illusion, Duke. I have no intention of interfering that much.”
His tone was cold. Duke Hugo barely managed to suppress the rebuke that had risen in his throat.
Felix had not always been this arrogant. There had been a time when he had been as bright and dazzling as the paintings he created. A beautiful mother, a loving father, a brother who was as close as a real sibling even though they were not born of the same womb. Duke Hugo clearly remembered the official portrait of the Imperial family that the boy himself had painted.
The hands that carefully transferred each person’s face to the canvas without any technique or reconstruction, the boy’s eyes meeting the gazes of the people in the paintings dozens or even hundreds of times.
The unsettling look that the child would often show before picking up the brush had disappeared like a lie. He remembered conversations with his sister, where they had talked about how there could be no more lovable child than him.
However, the portraits that the boy completed of the Imperial family no longer remained anywhere. He had personally taken a sword and shredded them. That had been the day his mother was tragically murdered by his father’s mistress.
On that day, the boy had crossed a river that could not be crossed again. His passion, his humanity, and perhaps even the fate of his future life.
Felix sat upright. Grabbing a piece of charcoal that had rolled onto the table, he stared at the empty canvas. The Duke, who had been frowning deeply, was startled.
“Wait, did you kill someone again? This morning?”
No, he hadn’t heard such a report. Felix never lost focus until he finished a painting. Harper’s painting was unfinished; there was no way he could have started a new one.
“There’s no one dead.”
Felix only moved his lips. Upon a second look, his gaze wasn’t on the canvas but on some point in the air.
The Duke noticed that he was lost in thought.
“But I’ve found something I want to paint.”
It was a monologue that didn’t quite fit with the context.
The Duke was familiar with the way of speaking that simply uttered whatever came to mind. He decided to abandon any attempts to understand.
“You there, come here and take that away.”
Instead, he called over a servant and had them discreetly take Harper’s painting. Felix only glanced at it but didn’t stop them.
The Duke lowered his voice and gave an order.
“Wrap it up tightly and put it in the inner room of the studio. Be especially careful not to let anyone see it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The Duke’s servants respectfully carried the painting and left.
Felix didn’t seem to have the intention to move the charcoal just yet. The Duke, belatedly, glanced around the living room. It was neat as always, but there were some messy corners here and there. It was quiet for now since Felix was focused on something, but Felix was annoyingly sensitive. At any moment, he could lash out at anything.
Once in the corridor, the Duke quietly called for the Butler, Runok.
“The living room is a mess. Where is the maid who should be cleaning it?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“What?”
For a moment, the Duke thought he had misheard.
Runok explained as if offering an excuse.
“She seems to have caught a severe cold. I was going to tidy up lightly in her place, but His Highness seemed to be displeased, so… we plan to hire a new maid, but we haven’t yet decided on a final candidate… Apologies.”
“Do you want to die, Runok?”
“No, my lord. Well, I did report it to His Highness, but he just said to leave it.”
“He told you to leave it? With the living room in this state?”
“Yes…”
“Who is the maid? Is it that girl who came on the recommendation of the Osfil family a few weeks ago?”
“That’s right. For some reason, she started falling ill yesterday and still hasn’t recovered.”
Runok carefully glanced at the Duke, seemingly trying to gauge his reaction.
“Perhaps… it could be because she’s a bit physically disabled. His Highness might have felt some pity for her.”
“Disabled? No, before that. What do you mean by ‘feeling pity’?”
The idea that they had allowed a maid with a disability into the Imperial Palace was absurd. The Duke, as the Butler, regularly received reports about personnel management at the palace. If this maid had been accepted by the late Butler Emel, who died fifteen days ago, it was certain that the report had been intentionally written without mentioning the disability.
But that was one thing, and Felix feeling pity for a disabled maid?
He might as well have cried seeing a bird fly. That would have been more believable. Felix Astiano was a man who did not consider lowly things even on the same human level.
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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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