This is…
I absentmindedly reached out my hand towards the painting as I looked at it. And then, gently, I traced over the face of the baby angel with my hand.
The painting, which warmed the heart just by looking at it, was filled with indescribable affection. So much so that I could not understand why Duke Dright had cursed God upon seeing it.
While I was unable to take my eyes off the painting, Ruth called out to me from behind.
“My lady.”
“…Yes? Oh, yes.”
Hearing his call, I snapped back to reality and looked at him, trying to hide my fluster. Then, Ruth, who had glanced at the painting I had just been admiring, came closer with a chuckle.
“I was wondering what you were looking at so intently, and it was this.”
“I wasn’t looking that intently.”
“Hm? But it seemed like you were very absorbed. Did I see it wrong?”
“…It was just strange.”
I finally admitted the truth to Ruth, who was giving me an urging look, tilting his head slightly towards me. He then playfully touched his chin with his thumb, seeming puzzled.
“What was?”
“The appearance of the baby angel. It looks a lot like Duke Dright.”
“Of course. This painting was drawn by the Duchess of Dright to commemorate the Duke of Dright’s fifth birthday.”
“!”
At my words, Ruth chuckled in response, teasing me with a playful reproach for not knowing even this much.
At that, I stiffened my expression momentarily before understanding his story and covered my slightly opened mouth with my left hand.
I had found out before attending Cedric’s birthday party that the Duchess of Dright was skilled in art. And that she had grown too weak to hold a brush anymore due to an incurable illness.
But that’s not the only thing…
I momentarily halted my flowing thoughts and moistened my dry lips with my tongue, trying to quell the rising confusion in my mind.
If the information about the Duchess of Dright’s artistic activities had only gone this far, my stomach wouldn’t be in such turmoil right now.
If there hadn’t been information that all her works had disappeared beneath the surface after she laid down her brush.
So, according to Ruth’s story, does that mean this picture is one of the Duchess of Dright’s works that the Dright family has been hiding from the public? And that it was given to the young Duke of Dright as a gift for his fifth birthday.
I muttered, immersed in the thought that the colors of the baby angel in the painting seemed clearer than just a moment ago.
“I had no idea there was such a backstory.”
“Dright was so thorough in hiding the works of Duchess Dright that it’s no wonder no one knew. I also ended up hearing about it while dealing with the nobility,” he said.
“Of course, don’t ask me why Dright hid the paintings of the Duchess. I don’t know either,” Ruth quickly added before I could respond, and then turned his gaze back to the painting.
“Truly, it’s as beautiful as its reputation. I can feel the love Duchess Dright had for her child just by looking at this.”
“Indeed. It’s really beautiful.”
I added a few words to his flawless admiration, uttered softly. The painting, which initially only exuded a flat beauty, now seemed to radiate a warm glow as well.
Perhaps, it was because I heard the backstory of the painting from Ruth.
…But why do I feel so suffocated despite such a splendid work before me? It feels like being pressed down by a massive boulder.
I tried to ease the clogged feeling by secretly hitting my chest with my fist, and then I belatedly realized the reason.
“God damn it.”
That was it. The thing that had been gnawing at me without my knowledge. The distinct and deep voice kept echoing in my ears, neither fading nor getting closer.
Listening to that sound, I attempted to voice the questions that I couldn’t unravel on my own.
“Um…”
“It’s said that this piece was completed by Duchess Dright right before she fell ill, and she was renowned for her expertise in art.”
Even though my words were quickly consumed by silence as soon as I spoke them.
“…”
“The title is probably, ‘Love.'”
As I gazed intently at Ruth, who was reciting information I already knew, he went on to tell me the title of the painting.
‘Love.’
I mulled over the title, which was both predictable and surprising in its own ways. The way my tongue rolled around the word felt foreign.
The love I had encountered so far was either overly sweet, heart-wrenchingly painful, entangled in knots that couldn’t be undone, or selfish. In simple terms, none embodied the utterly devoted ambiance that Duchess Dright’s love did.
Perhaps that’s why. Why this ‘Love’ seemed so unfamiliar and, internally, filled me with discomfort and a sense of jealousy.
As I was sinking deeper into my thoughts, Ruth, with his arms crossed, glanced down at me and said,
“In essence, this painting is practically the last work of Duchess Dright, no, of the artist Gisellia. After contracting an incurable disease, the Duchess could no longer hold a brush.”
“And a painter who cannot hold a brush is as good as dead, so you’re saying this painting is like her last work.”
“Exactly.”
As I quickly grasped what he was about to say and continued the conversation, a smile lingered on Ruth’s lips.
I smiled back, watching his deep red lips curve into a thick smile, while my mind was flooded with countless thoughts.
The legacy of Duchess Dright left in the place where Painter Gisellia died. The weight of the love left by the brush that has now been put down.
Contrary to the Duchess Dright, who places all her expectations on God, the young Duke Dright who hates God with all his heart.
Perhaps the answer to my question exists here, in a state neither far nor close, echoing like the voice of the young Duke Dright in my ears.
No sooner had I reached that conclusion than Ruth, having neatly organized the spatial pouch, asked in a much refreshing tone.
“Seems like we’ve gathered all the evidence we can from here, shall we go now?”
“I’d like that. I was just starting to feel a bit tired.”
“Alright.”
Thinking too much can wear out the mind. Thus, I decided to stop thinking for the day.
Ruth’s eyes curved into a gentle crescent, seemingly pleased with my hesitation-free answer, and then he extended he’s hand to me, signaling me to take it.
Before I overlaid my hand on the familiar warmth of another’s, I took one last look at the picture of the baby angel.
“Let’s go.”
It was still a beautiful, yet foolish painting.
***
Exiting the hallway the way we came in, we reached the elevator and, fortunately, got on one that opened right away to head down to our room. Luckily, no one stopped us. It was only after finally entering the room that I completely relaxed. My body, which had been stiff, finally returned to its normal state.
“Phew.”
“Was it very hard?”
As I flop down on the bed and let out a sigh, Ruth looked at me with a gaze tinged with a faint apology. His somewhat cautious look at me was unexpectedly cute, so I ignored the aching all over my body and joked.
“No. It was quite fun.”
“It seems you surprisingly enjoy this kind of thing.”
“I generally do. I like new things.”
“I’m the opposite of you in that regard. I prefer familiar things that I know are safe rather than new ones.”
“But we’re not completely opposite. I also like new things that are safe.”
“Is that so?”
Leaning against the wall and engaging in trivial conversation with me, Ruth checked the time and then changed the subject.
“So, who’s going to shower first?”
“…What?”
My voice wobbled gracelessly at the unexpected topic he brought up.
Seeing my reaction, Ruth raised an eyebrow and eventually burst into a hearty laugh.
“Don’t worry, my lady. Such things will never happen. Do I look like the type to recklessly touch any woman?”
“No, it’s not like that… I really didn’t think about that at all. Truly.”
I stressed my true feelings as much as possible to Ruth, who was still speaking with traces of laughter.
I can say for certain that although I flinched at the mention of washing, I never let my imagination run wild with such thoughts.
My excuse, not quite convincing, left him looking suspicious. He messed up his hair after a while.
“Let’s just say that’s the case.”
“It’s not just saying; it really is.”
“I understand your sincerity.”
“It doesn’t seem like you understand at all.”
“Hmm, I’ve been quite curious about what’s been getting into this acorn-sized brain of yours lately.”
“You’re not listening to what I’m saying at all…”
In the end, I was the first to wave the white flag.
Giving up on proving my innocence to him, I glanced at Ruth, who was smirking, and stood up from my seat.
“Anyway, I’ll go wash up first.”
“Okay. Oh, and the bathroom with the bathtub is to the left.”
“Then what’s in the right bathroom?”
“I looked earlier, and it seems the right bathroom is more for dressing up than bathing.”
“Ah, got it.”
Despite having two bathrooms, it was slightly odd they insisted I go first, but now I understand why.
I nodded in acknowledgment and headed straight for the bathroom.
The bathroom, filled with antique decorations, was if not neat, then overly so. Still, being an inn for the nobility, it was not uncomfortable to look at.
“How do I fill the bathtub with water?”
I stared intently at a round, golden object next to the tub that was twice the size of my body.
Never having encountered this type of bathtub before, I didn’t even know how to start filling it with water.
After pondering for a moment, I turned the golden object clockwise three or four times, and lukewarm water began to trickle out.
As I slowly filled the tub with water, I silently rejoiced and began to strip off my clothes layer by layer until I was left in just my slip.
“My lady.”
Ruth knocked on the door.
