Ko-fi shop has been renewed, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
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“I will not… betray you.”
Diana barely managed to mumble. There was no response in return.
The brush trailed from her chin down to her neck. The paint-stiffened bristles moved downward along her carotid artery. Her pale collar became stained with messy red smudges.
Felix examined the woman’s painted face with dissatisfaction. The red streak drawn from the corner of her eye to her neckline resembled bloody tears flowing from her eyes.
Felix liked things that were provocative. Among countless colors, the most intense was, of course, red. And within that spectrum, the deepest, most vivid crimson— the color of life flowing through human veins. There was no human that crimson didn’t suit.
Intensity itself was synonymous with allure. Even something inherently unattractive could become stunningly beautiful when drenched in crimson. Then, what about something that was already beautiful?
The maid’s gaze wavered uneasily. A familiar irritation surged within him.
“I told you to keep your eyes still.”
Although the red paint suited her as expected, her meek and obedient demeanor somehow failed to satisfy him. It didn’t spark the desire to create. Was the inspiration he had felt when indulging in her three days ago merely a fleeting moment?
Where had that presence gone?
Just then, the maid bit down on her trembling lips.
“I overheard Prince Aizen plotting to target His Majesty’s birthday celebration next month. It was just a snippet of conversation I caught through a crack in the door when I visited him….”
She was playing her last card. The trembling movement of her lips still had a captivating pull on his gaze. But why wasn’t it as enticing as it had been that day?
“I heard them conspiring with someone about preventing His Highness, the Crown Prince, from appearing at the birthday banquet….”
Splat.
Diana froze mid-sentence.
A cold, viscous liquid poured onto the crown of her head. A few seconds passed before she fully grasped what had happened.
The liquid, more than enough to soak her clothes, dripped onto the floor. The overpowering smell of oil numbed her senses.
Diana’s thoughts lagged behind. So, right now, he had poured paint on her….
Felix let out a dissatisfied noise.
“Red doesn’t suit you. That’s troublesome.”
It was only then that Diana realized the color of the paint that had drenched her from head to toe. It was crimson, as red as blood.
Diana now looked as though she were bleeding, as if her head had burst open. Blood—or rather, blood-colored paint—streamed from her body.
Her lips parted silently.
What on earth….
What on earth is this man thinking?
Diana finally realized that her master had never once paid attention to her pleas.
Not even Nephrine had given her such an impression. Diana felt as if she had become a stone lying by the roadside—something shiny and smooth that might briefly catch someone’s eye, only to be tossed or kicked aside whenever convenient.
Diana knew the name of this emotion. It was humiliation, a feeling she was experiencing for the first time in her life.
It wasn’t simply because he had poured paint on her. More than that, it was the detached attitude with which her master observed her grotesque state that struck her deeply.
She could hear him taking a step back. She didn’t need to look to sense it. From that distance, he scrutinized her as if she were an object he had just modified.
“Hmm….”
He seemed immensely dissatisfied.
The absurdity of the situation brought with it a faint realization.
Now she understood why this man showed no interest in the assassins frequenting the imperial villa. To him, maids, chamberlains, and cooks were disposable tools meant to be discarded after use. A few among them wielding knives didn’t seem worth his surprise. Stones could simply be cleared away.
Was this how all members of the royal family behaved?
The springs of Ballestega, where Diana had been born and raised, were a paradise without hierarchies. There, Diana had learned to value everything—the smallest blade of grass, a tiny insect, a single seed resting in the soil. Her greatest wound remained the day she was driven from the springs by the empire’s forces.
Even after being captured and branded, the imperial army had treated her as a person. They assigned female knights to protect women and children forced to bare their upper bodies before the enemy. If such considerations could even be called kindness.
And Hilde’s brothel? That was where human desires for other humans festered and overflowed.
Even Nephrine had been no exception. Jealousy, desire, and grotesque superiority were all emotions directed at fellow humans.
But this man seemed different. She got the distinct feeling that he didn’t consider her to be part of the human race.
“Why do you look like that?”
His tone was curious, and that alone….
Diana unconsciously rubbed her chin with the back of her hand, bewildered.
The paint dripped messily down her nose. The oily pigment was excessively smooth, leaving her skin feeling slick. It didn’t seem like it would wash off easily, even with the palm-sized soap she used.
“That’s the look of someone who feels wronged. But there could hardly be anything more fortunate for you than this.”
“…No, master.”
Was this punishment for having been bedridden for the past three days? It was possible. After all, I am a maid. I am his….
But even as she tried to rationalize it, it was no use. A faint anger simmered deep within Diana.
Humans ought to treat each other as humans. There might be a hierarchy of status, but there should be no divide among species. Treating people like livestock or inanimate objects was unacceptable. Not even the future ruler of this land had such a right!
“If you wish to live, you’d better stop looking at me with such insolent eyes. Diana.”
The man’s indifferent tone suddenly trailed off. His narrowed eyes scanned every inch of Diana’s face.
Diana bit the inside of her lip, hard enough to taste blood. Even so, she couldn’t completely conceal the emotions that flickered in her now-unwavering gaze.
Felix murmured slowly.
“No, that expression is much better now. And the look in your eyes too.”
Like someone else entirely, his sharp gaze combed through hers. Finally, his lips curled into a satisfied smile. Yes, now he understood. That desperate vitality seemed to peak whenever Diana dared to show defiance.
“Stay just like that. I need to compose the scene.”
It appeared he intended to transfer her to canvas. The man only painted the dead. In her current state, Diana might as well have been a corpse. She couldn’t begin to untangle the Crown Prince’s inscrutable intentions.
Just then, a voice called out from afar.
“Your Highness, Duke Kristen is here.” Runok’s voice announced.
***
The oil-based paint was neither quick to dry nor easy to wipe off. Diana couldn’t fully remove the paint smeared across her hair and face before having to greet new visitors.
Duke Kristen, Hugo, stopped in his tracks upon entering the drawing room, stunned.
“Your Highness, did you kill someone again? Again, again, again!”
The duke’s angry outburst was abruptly cut short. What he had assumed was a blood-soaked corpse was alive, judging by the wide-open eyes staring back at him.
“Who are you?”
The maid with large eyes frantically rubbed her face with the back of her hand. The paint merely smudged further, spreading from her cheeks to the corners of her lips, to no avail.
Hugo had entered the palace today, hoping nothing of note had occurred, but now he couldn’t possibly dismiss this scene as “nothing.” He swallowed his dismay. The maid, engulfed in red paint, couldn’t even properly lift her head.
The culprit behind her pitiable state had flung the now-empty paint container into a corner of the room. Hugo, fearing the worst, cautiously asked,
“Could she be… the one who disappeared for three days?”
Diana’s lips trembled, trying to respond. However, the foul paint pooling on her lips seeped into her mouth, making it impossible to speak.
At this moment, she was almost grateful she couldn’t see her reflection. Diana tried hard not to imagine how wretched she must look in their eyes.
A middle-aged man standing nearby clicked his tongue.
“There’s no need to see more to know. Poor girl.”
Tears welled up uncontrollably. Though she didn’t recognize him, there was a tone of pity in his voice. He seemed to be a noble close to the crown prince.
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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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