Ko-fi shop has been renewed, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
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“I can do it….”
Diana flinched each time his hand touched her, and a faint hint of irritation seemed to flash across his face.
“The soap provided to maids won’t be enough to wash this off. Unless you want to wander around looking like a mess, stay still.”
At his cold command, Diana closed her mouth.
Only after the soapy water was poured over her multiple times did Diana’s skin return to its original ivory hue. The red dye that had soaked into her hair would require a few more washes to be completely removed.
The Crown Prince did not bother to explain why he had doused Diana in paint. He neither had the obligation nor the responsibility to make her understand.
And yet, it wasn’t as if Diana could dare to ask him for a reason. She was far too insignificant to demand answers from him. That was simply the position of a maid.
What did I do wrong? She was too exhausted to even cling to the hope of asking such questions and getting answers. Resignation seemed more fitting.
As always, there was no one to relieve Diana of her sense of injustice.
It had always been this way. Whether she was falsely accused by Nephrine’s cunning schemes, harassed by vulgar rumors, or humiliated in front of others, no one ever defended Diana against Nephrine, even if there were voices pitying her from the sidelines.
Would her miserable life, trampled on by the Defierre household, truly change just because she had come to the imperial palace? This wasn’t the Spring of Ballestega. To expect humane treatment? Not when her body bore the mark of a slave, a mark she was forced to conceal for life.
It was an injustice she had no choice but to accept as long as she lived in this empire.
Something hot trickled down her cheek. Diana realized, a beat late, that it was her tears.
“Ah…”
As soon as she became aware of it, the tears burst uncontrollably.
Felix, who was peeling off dried bits of paint stuck to Diana’s earlobe and ear, frowned.
“Why are you crying?”
“N-no reason.”
She tried to keep her voice from trembling, but it was futile. The dam of pent-up sorrow broke, and an amalgamation of accumulated grievances came pouring out.
“Diana.”
The voice calling her name was as alluring as when she had first been captivated by it.
Diana wished she could block her ears. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to accept it. Words spoken in that voice felt like the undeniable truths of the world.
Can’t I just keep this grievance to myself?
“Diana Escaliff. It seems you still haven’t figured out your place.”
But the Crown Prince easily crushed her will. His soap-slick hands brushed along Diana’s delicate neckline. Despite his warm body temperature, the voice that dripped from above her crown was cold.
“You escaped death thanks to nothing more than this paint.”
“……”
“If you had looked pretty as a flower even covered in this, I’d have no reason not to kill you. I thought you’d already figured out what I’m drawing.”
Diana’s tear-streaked expression faltered. So, if the paint—the blood-like appearance—had looked beautiful to him, he would have killed her on the spot. The Crown Prince sneered.
“I don’t understand what you’re crying about. Isn’t it you who came to harm me? Didn’t Aizen warn you that your death would be certain if your true identity was exposed?”
“……”
“I’ve tolerated your insolence a few times now. Drop this pointless self-pity and think of ways to amuse me. That’s the only way I’ll let you live a little longer.”
Though his words sounded sharp, they essentially declared that he wouldn’t kill Diana just yet.
In truth, there wasn’t a single lie in his cold rebuke. Diana had betrayed Aizen and declared she would become the Crown Prince’s person. She had handed over her life and ownership to him.
In the end, she had no choice but to submit once again. Diana wiped the tears and snot from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Are you going to paint me?”
“Not in the same way as before.”
Felix pushed Diana’s shoulders, causing her to teeter backward and fall into the water with a splash. Though she hit the tub from her back, what she felt first wasn’t fear but relief. The water had never harmed her.
As the warm water clung to her skin, her tense body gradually relaxed. Slowly moving her hands through the water, Diana resurfaced. The faint red stains lingering on her hair and skin completely disappeared.
Felix sat on the edge of the tub where Diana had just been, watching her as she emerged from the water.
Before sketching any kind of painting, there’s a process one must go through—meticulously observing the subject. This includes not only the subject’s appearance but every emotion flowing from within.
Felix extended his hand toward Diana, whose body was half-submerged. Despite her faint resistance, he firmly held her chin, directing her gaze toward him.
The face revealed beneath the drained red hue was paler than before. This was the same woman who had fallen ill for three days simply after holding something belonging to a man in her mouth. A scab had formed on her still-healing lips.
It was easy to recall the sight of her struggling to breathe while taking him into her mouth. Though clumsy, her warmth and wetness had been just right.
Her lack of skill had been more provocative. Had she shown even a hint of competence, he might have killed her on the spot. He loathed those who sold their bodies cheaply.
Felix adjusted Diana’s face with his fingers. Having suffered unexpected humiliation right after recovering from a fever, Diana couldn’t conceal her expression any better than usual.
“Well then…”
Diana spoke in a barely audible, fragile voice.
“What kind of painting are you going to make of me…?”
“There’s no reason for you to know that. All you have to do is stay quiet and be obedient.”
The trembling eyelashes finally drooped fully downward. Her lips appeared slightly wrinkled underneath the faint pink hue, as if she was biting the inside of her lip.
Diana’s face had been visibly hurt since earlier. Tiny tears clinging to her lower lashes streamed down her pale cheeks.
A sharp pang pierced his chest. She cried easily—beautifully, heartbreakingly.
The moment he recognized the dull ache in his chest, a sense of ecstasy surged within him.
“Yes, this is what I want to see, Diana. Your true self, without any lies.”
He had no interest in her hollow words about becoming his ally or offering herself as a tool for his use. How many spies had spouted such sweet nothings? Felix was not swayed by such things. Instead, he was mesmerized by the pure, unguarded expressions Diana unwittingly revealed.
The way she had clenched her lips, struggling to suppress her anger while drenched in paint, or now, as she wept uncontrollably, unable to endure her sorrow and frustration. Or perhaps…
His gaze deliberately lingered over the exposed curves of her body. Water pooled in the hollow of her collarbone. Her chest, covered in a soaked, cheap slip that clung tightly to her skin, rose and fell enticingly with her labored breaths.
“Stand up.”
Felix bent down and wrapped his arms around the waist of the woman submerged in the water. Diana’s cheek flushed red as she was helplessly pulled up by his strong grip. She traced the arm encircling her waist with trembling fingers and lowered her quivering lashes.
Her expression betrayed her awareness of him as a man. Felix suddenly felt an overwhelming thirst.
He wanted to capture every emotion she displayed and transfer it onto a canvas—joy, sorrow, fear, disgust, pleasure, hatred, shame, humiliation, despair—all of it.
Her beauty made any expression a masterpiece in itself, but the works he created carried a different vitality, one beyond reality. It had been a long time since he had felt such a thrill at the prospect of painting a subject.
As a boy, he had enjoyed exposing the hidden inner emotions people didn’t want anyone else to see and immortalizing them on canvas. Some were repulsed, while others were left in awe, unable to hold back their admiration and praise.
He didn’t care about their judgments. The moment a painting came to life, it ceased to belong to its model and became his possession.
Felix cherished those paintings dearly. In the innermost room on the third floor of the annex, he kept hundreds of such works.
“You’ll be the most captivating painting I own, Diana.”
“……”
“So behave wisely. That way, nothing will happen.”
It was the same thing he had said on the first day Diana had attended to his bath.
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