The Meaning of the Painting
“His Majesty forbade that painting?”
Karina strode right up to Roze, her brows furrowed deeply in clear displeasure.
“I already know every painting His Majesty has banned from exhibition. The ones that are excessively cruel or show the body too explicitly. Portraits of dethroned monarchs, and the exceptional inclusion of Cassir II’s, correct? So what possible issue could there be with Emperor Pavelu and Crown Prince Alikson?”
“Pfft.”
At Karina’s answer, scattered bursts of incredulous laughter rippled through the room. The noblewomen quickly cleared their throats and pretended they hadn’t laughed, but Karina had already caught the strange shift in the air.
“Baroness Linton. Cassir II is Emperor Pavelu. It was the name he took when he ascended the throne.”
Ebony, standing beside her, spoke in a low voice. Only then did panic flicker across Karina’s face.
If she knew about Cassir II, she would understand why His Majesty had forbidden any portrait of him. She would also realize just how grave her mistake had been.
“I truly cannot fathom why anyone would hang a painting of Cassir II so prominently in the center of the hall. Since you claim to be close to His Majesty, Baroness Linton, perhaps you could explain it to us. Did His Majesty grant permission for Cassir II’s portrait to be displayed?”
“Th-that’s not—”
Roze’s words came sharp and relentless. Karina bit her lip hard. Like a predator refusing to release its prey, Roze pressed her even harder.
“Surely the person entrusted with managing the imperial household cannot lack even this level of historical knowledge? Cassir II murdered Crown Prince Alikson—the son of his own elder brother the crown prince and first in the line of succession—then stole the throne. The background of this very painting is the Goria Plains where the crown prince was killed. He murdered his nephew under the pretense of a hunting competition.”
Roze was right. This was precisely why His Majesty had banned all images of Cassir II.
Since ancient times, uncles and nephews had been regarded as the most formidable rivals for the imperial throne. Among them, Cassir II stood out as a tyrant who had slain the legitimate heir and usurped power.
Though Cassir II’s son and grandson, unwilling to tarnish their father’s honor, had called him the Great Emperor and branded Alikson a traitor, the passage of long years had completely reversed that judgment.
Successive emperors, seeking to protect their direct bloodlines and restrain ambitious siblings, had systematically blackened Cassir II’s name. The title of Great Emperor was revoked, and Alikson—who had once borne the stigma of traitor—was elevated to the status of posthumous emperor.
It was the imperial family’s solemn declaration that anyone who harmed a direct descendant and seized the throne would have their crime answered for, no matter how many centuries passed.
The current ruler, Emperor Hebron, possessed a rare familial warmth among the imperial bloodline. He cherished his brothers and loved his nephews as if they were his own children. To a man of such character, even an ancestor’s transgression like Cassir II’s was deeply unsettling.
Emperor Hebron had ordered Pavelu’s coffin removed from the temple where the previous emperors’ remains rested and reburied it on the hill reserved for the imperial family’s collateral branches, replacing the spot with Alikson’s remains.
Along with that, he had taken down Cassir II’s portrait from the palace’s portrait gallery and decreed that his image was never to hang within the imperial palace again.
Having lost his own son, Emperor Hebron had no choice but to pass the throne to his nephew. His harsh measures had been born of a desire to erase the longstanding notion that uncles and nephews within the imperial family could never be close.
“Oh dear, it seems Baroness Linton truly didn’t know Pavelu was Cassir II.”
“As expected. No matter how frantically one crams, knowledge and refinement cannot be acquired overnight.”
“If it weren’t for Lady Riseri, we would have been completely fooled. It’s not as if she lured us here under false pretenses, yet how could she possibly display a painting His Majesty forbade?”
“I feel thoroughly offended. She still has a long way to go before she can follow in the footsteps of her predecessor, Duchess Wintera.”
“This is exactly why one should never look down on another’s position and try to snatch it away so carelessly.”
The noblewomen deliberately amplified their ridicule of Karina, turning their own failure to recognize the painting of Pavelu and Alikson into proof of her ignorance.
Clicking tongues and contemptuous stares rained down from every side. Karina’s face burned crimson; she could not utter a single word. Anything she said now would only make the situation worse.
Even Ebony Bladin had no choice but to keep silent. In this moment, Karina stood utterly alone, isolated in the midst of the crowd.
“I shall take my leave first. On my way home, I’ll stop by the gallery and suggest to the curator that he prepare an empty space. After all, this painting will be returned to the palace before long.”
Roze gathered her coat, offered me a polite farewell, and left the hall with light steps. The other noblewomen began to follow, departing one by one. They ignored Karina—the very host of the gathering—entirely, each offering me their greetings before returning home.
“You worked hard today, Ishtel.”
Before leaving, Baroness Turen gave me a faint smile.
“I must be going as well. I need to see His Majesty. Until later, Karina.”
When even Ebony, her sole ally, hurried away, Karina’s expression grew even darker.
Now only the two of us remained in the vast hall.
I had nothing left to say to her, nothing I wished to say. As I turned the toe of my shoe toward the door, Karina cried out as though she had been waiting for the moment.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
“I’m asking whether you arranged all this to humiliate me!”
Karina’s sharp voice rang out, echoing through the entire hall.
“You knew everything! On the day we went to choose the paintings together, why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been waiting for this moment all along, haven’t you? So you could disgrace me in front of everyone and turn me into a laughingstock!”
Her eyes burned with a mixture of fury and humiliation as she ground her teeth, looking ready to devour me whole.
“I thought it was far too easy the way you handed everything over. So this was your plan all along! Well, are you satisfied now? You’ve turned me into a hollow fool who got exactly what she deserved for being greedy, while you stand there pretending to be so noble, watching me suffer!”
“You should choose your words more carefully.”
“How could I possibly be any clearer than this!”
“The one who made you a laughingstock wasn’t me. It was you.”
“What?”
“Don’t you remember? What I said the day we selected that painting.”
I lifted my chin toward the portrait of Pavelu and Alikson.
“I asked whether you wouldn’t regret it. Whether you didn’t need to look at any other paintings. Do you remember what you answered?”
One of Karina’s eyebrows twitched. It seemed the memory had begun to surface, however faintly.
“‘It seems I’ve chosen quite a fine painting, haven’t I?’”
“......”
“And then you called for the curator without asking me another thing.”
Karina said nothing. She only clenched her fists until the knuckles whitened. Her chest rose and fell violently, her breathing ragged as she struggled to control her emotions.
“How else could I have made myself any clearer?”
I turned and walked across the hall. As I moved toward the door, a tangle of emotions stirred inside me.
The first feeling that rose was, absurdly, satisfaction. Just as she had said, there was a certain pleasure in watching her suffer the consequences of daring to overstep the crown princess’s authority.
What had happened to Karina today would spread through high society and the imperial palace alike before long. It was only a matter of time before it reached His Majesty’s ears. I hoped this incident would make him regret entrusting the palace’s management to her.
Yet once that brief satisfaction faded, a strange discomfort settled in its place. And that discomfort was directed not at Karina, but at myself.
Once again, she was right. I had stood by with an air of nobility, intending to watch her fall.
I could have told her first, without waiting for her to ask. I could have said that the painting was one His Majesty had forbidden and that she should choose another. But I had not. And in that moment, I had already anticipated that something like this might happen.
Nobles took a special interest in those who enjoyed the emperor’s favor, as Karina did. Yet when such people tried to enter high society, the nobles secretly preferred to see them stumble and become objects of ridicule rather than adapt flawlessly. It let them feed their own petty sense of superiority.
In that sense, Karina had been an ideal target. Just as she had phrased it, they had used her to hurl their contemptuous words at, while I remained above it all.
I thought it would feel purely satisfying, but it isn’t that simple.
The emotion was too complex to name. A bitter aftertaste lingered, and my heart was far from light.
“Wait.”
Karina had drawn close without my noticing and caught my wrist. The golden eyes that met mine swirled with feelings equally difficult to define.
“If… that is… if……”
Her voice trembled as she stammered.
“If I had asked the Duchess… just a little more about that painting……”
“......”
“Would you have told me?”
I looked steadily into her eyes. Her breathing had grown far more even than before, and the flush had faded from her cheeks, returning them to their natural color.
“Answer me, Duchess.”
The hand gripping my wrist shook slightly.
Had she not chosen that painting, I would not have attended today’s gathering. The only reason I had come was to witness her humiliation.
Karina had taken over duties I had performed for years without so much as a word of discussion. She had arrogantly handled everything her own way, never once seeking help. Today’s result was simply the price she had to pay.
Yet if, before selecting the painting, she had asked me even one short question… what then? Would I have willingly helped her? I asked myself, but even I could not easily find the answer.
“You ask such pointless questions so readily, yet you never ask when it truly matters.”
I turned away from her with cold eyes. The emotions left inside me, the question she had thrown at me—everything felt strangely out of place.