Ko-fi shop has been renewed, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
***
The duke, unable to hide his disbelief, quickly composed his expression.
“Very well, then.”
The carpet was folded at the corner, a fine brush had rolled under the side table, and the chair was in a completely different position. Felix might have been lost in his own thoughts for now, but who knew when he would nitpick and find fault again?
So many maids had been replaced over the years that they were beyond counting. Whether sickly or otherwise, the maid who had endured here for an entire month was the first.
The Crown Prince, who never showed interest in anything that wasn’t worthy of being the subject of a painting, had been troubled by her presence. Perhaps…
“No, no matter how absurd, there’s no way that rascal would pay close attention to a mere maid.”
Shaking his head, the duke added a reminder, just in case.
“I’ll send a doctor to check on the maid. And having only one maid in this enormous palace is ridiculous. I’ll arrange for a new servant to be sent—use them as needed.”
***
When she opened her eyes, the world was no different from before—black and silent.
It was difficult to discern whether she was still dreaming or awake. Diana fumbled for the side table and found her tactile watch. Six a.m.
“Six… a.m.?”
Her mind snapped awake. It was already far too late to start the day’s work. Jumping up in a panic, Diana washed, changed into freshly laundered clothes from her wardrobe, and rushed out.
It was 6:30 a.m. by the time she was ready. She was late! Sweat ran down her back, and her body ached all over, but she barely noticed.
On her way to the third-floor drawing room, as her routine dictated, she encountered someone. A distinctive tapping sound, as if walking on their tiptoes—Runok.
“You’re finally up?”
Runok looked Diana over with his pale expression, scrutinizing her from head to toe. Diana, unsure of what to do, bowed deeply.
“I’m sorry, Butler. This won’t happen again—”
“You’ve been in bed for three full days. I thought you’d lost the will to work.”
“Th-three days?”
Diana had steeled herself for a scolding over being late by an hour, but instead, she was dumbfounded.
“Are you saying I’ve been lying down for three days…?”
“Just lying down? A doctor treated you, too.”
It was too chilling to be a joke. Treated? Even the Crown Prince, who had ingested poison, wouldn’t summon a doctor lightly—so how could a mere maid?
Are they planning to heal me so I can die in perfect condition?
Fortunately, Runok pulled Diana out of her spiraling thoughts.
“You’ve worked without mistakes until now, so His Highness seems willing to overlook it this once. But there won’t be a second time, so stay sharp.”
“I’ll… continue working here?”
“What, were you planning to leave the palace of your own accord?”
Runok glared at Diana as if her question was the most absurd thing he’d heard. She flinched under the palpable disapproval in his gaze.
“Ten days ago, you were in the dining hall, weren’t you? If you don’t want to end up like that, keep your behavior in check. And it’d be wise to decide where you stand soon.”
“……”
“Not that it matters. Judging by the fact that you didn’t run away that day, the decision has already been made for you.”
Runok passed by Diana, leaving the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. There was only one person here who had the power to dictate Diana’s fate.
The Crown Prince already had her entirely figured out. Deception was meaningless.
***
The Crown Prince had been awake since early morning. The smell of pigments was thick in the drawing room.
She had been absent without permission for three whole days. No excuses were necessary. Diana bowed deeply, her head almost touching the floor.
“I apologize, Master. Over the past three days…”
“Enough, stand over there.”
“Pardon?”
“By the window.”
Her attempt at an apology was cut off abruptly.
Diana hesitantly walked to the window. Her scalp and cheeks warmed. She must have stepped into a spot drenched in morning sunlight.
The drawing room, where the Crown Prince spent most of his time, had its own set of rules. One of them was to keep the curtains drawn at all times, regardless of whether it was day or night. The paints the Crown Prince used were prone to discoloration under sunlight, so even at midday, no sunlight was allowed into the room.
She distinctly remembered pulling the curtains shut as she cleaned the room just before collapsing three days ago. But now the curtains were tied back. When she touched them, the knots weren’t tied in her usual way. She was the only maid in this palace—who else had been here?
Felix rose and approached Diana. Sensing his movement, Diana swallowed nervously. An oppressive thought took hold in her mind: she had to speak before he acted.
“I have something to tell you, Master.”
“What? That Aizen sent you to seduce me?”
Felix casually placed a jar of oil mixed with pigment on the windowsill as he spoke. Her words caught in her throat.
“A slave from Dorthes, who either used medication or salve to hide the brand on her chest? Or perhaps someone who’s never worked for Duke Osfil?”
How long had he known? Felix stared at Diana, whose body had begun to tremble, and spoke in an even tone.
“I don’t care what you are. Nor do I have any intention of paying attention to the excuses of someone who’s about to die. I don’t expect you to be any different from the countless others who’ve passed through here.”
“Y-Your Highness…”
“So stand still. Let me observe properly.”
His words, delivered so indifferently, contained a clear implication.
The Crown Prince had no intention of keeping Diana alive for long. He had no interest in her sincerity, either.
But he wouldn’t kill her immediately. Because…
Observe… he needs to observe me?
Felix examined Diana’s face for a long time, tilting it this way and that.
“Raise your eyes.”
“H-how much…”
“Higher.”
As her gaze rose slightly, his impatient command rang out again. Higher. Bit by bit, her eyes lifted until they finally met his. Though Diana had no idea what she was even looking at, she understood one thing with crystal clarity.
The Crown Prince had made his decision about her.
He didn’t paint serene or peaceful subjects. Only the dead—specifically, those he had killed—were given the honor of adorning his canvas.
That was Diana’s future.
Tears welled in her unseeing eyes as she whispered in a trembling voice.
“I was wrong, Master.”
The desperate plea was the same as Harper’s final words, shouted again and again until the end. But it wouldn’t work this time.
She didn’t know why he had left her alone for the past three days. Whether it was whimsy or mercy, his tolerance wouldn’t last much longer. Before her time ran out, she had to act.
“Please give me a chance to redeem myself.”
“Redeem yourself?”
“Yes. Please, allow me the opportunity to regain your trust…”
I don’t want to die like this.
Her hopes of avoiding exploitation by men had already been crushed. Diana fought to suppress the memory of what had happened three days ago.
I will survive.
Without her sight, the antidote for her eyes, or the funds and permits to return to her homeland, all her plans were meaningless. As Runok had advised, Diana now had to choose her position carefully.
Her life’s ransom might be her body. She might endure more nights like the one three days ago.
Even so, she wanted to live. She wanted to see the world again with her own eyes—its radiant sun, azure skies, green fields, and red-brick rooftops. She even longed to see the forgotten contours of her own face.
She didn’t want to die in this darkness. Diana resolved to wager everything she had—her pride, which was worth little, and her body, which was worth even less. Submissively, she moved her lips.
“Use me as you wish, Master. I will be your ears and hands.”
“You change allegiance so easily. I don’t need ears or lips that are lighter than a mayfly.”
Something unfamiliar brushed against her face. The unexpected sensation made her skin crawl. A brush—it was a brush.
The soft, damp bristles traced her right eye and slid downward.
In its wake, a starkly contrasting streak appeared on her skin. It was too viscous to be water and had an oily texture. The sharp, acrid smell of paint wafted up.
Her master was painting on her face. The fine sable bristles of the luxurious brush swept down her right cheek and along the corner of her lips.
***
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
***
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed what you have read, do consider tipping me a little through: click here. An advanced chapter will be posted as a thank you once I receive 6$. Don’t forget to mention the series that you’re supporting!
