Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Breathing Hole
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Daphne looked up at the sky. The weather was clear. She smiled faintly and gazed down at the things brushing against her toes.
The yellow flowers were perfect for painting. How should she depict a cluster like that? Daphne blinked.
Ever since she’d taken up painting as a hobby, everything seemed to be made of pictures.
Daphne blankly recalled yesterday’s events. Artemisia’s painting lingered in her mind. The raw emotion on the woman’s face as she severed a neck. The dying man.
Artemisia was a true genius.
“Daphne?”
At the sound of the soft voice, Daphne raised her head. Asherad was sitting there. They were enjoying tea time.
Tea time.
It felt strange. Asherad had never let her into his refined world before. Daphne hadn’t even dared to dream of it.
Yet here they were, drinking tea and gazing at each other’s faces. Why now?
Wasn’t she just a doll to satisfy his desires?
Daphne knew her place well. Could it be he wanted to drink tea with Kallista but was settling for her instead?
“What are you thinking about?”
“About painting.”
Daphne answered. Asherad seemed pleased whenever she showed interest in something, nodding along when she talked about art.
“Painting?”
“Oh, I was just thinking it’d be pretty to paint this garden.”
Daphne averted her eyes from Asherad’s gaze and turned back to the yellow rosebushes. The yellow waves contrasting against the blue sky would surely be a delight to capture.
“I bought you a few dresses. It’s autumn now.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
No new paint colors? According to Artemisia, there were even countries that produced a really pretty blue paint as a specialty product. And a mysteriously hued purple one too.
“You haven’t worn any of the necklaces I gifted you.”
At the question, Daphne realized with a start. Come to think of it, Asherad had given her not just clothes but jewelry too. They were beautiful, but she hadn’t felt they were truly hers, and wearing them as a mere maid felt burdensome.
And above all, what if paint got on them while she worked? She thought of the painting she was currently working on.
Following Artemisia’s advice, she’d started it on impulse, but she quite liked it. She’d have to paint more once this tea time ended.
With a rather pleased expression, she picked up a cookie from the plate. The soft buttery scent and distinctive nutty aroma were quite to her liking.
“It reminds me of the old days.”
Daphne turned her head curiously. What old days was he thinking of?
“Back then, you loved eating those cookies too.”
“……”
“Sitting on my lap.”
“……”
“Your eyes would sparkle as you took the cookies or biscuits I offered. It was adorable.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. The memory suddenly resurfaced. Sitting on Asherad’s lap, she’d eaten the cookies or biscuits he offered as a reward for him reading her stories. That had been her only happiness as a child.
Asherad would occasionally stroke her hair during those times. Those false moments of joy. Like training a dog, those times when she’d been showered with affection.
Unknowingly, Daphne set down the cookie she’d bitten into. Asherad raised an eyebrow and stared intently at her face. His once-warm green eyes turned icy cold. His frozen gaze refused to leave her halted hand and downcast eyes. Daphne remained oblivious, still looking at the cookie.
Asherad realized it was a memory for her.
A memory of her being clueless, fawning over him.
A dog’s memory.
“Dear Daphne.”
In an exaggeratedly sweet tone, Asherad spoke. As Daphne looked up, he continued with his usual kind smile.
“Why not stop the painting lessons now?”
“……”
“It’s already been four months. Learn something else.”
Before she’d started painting, Daphne would have nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered what she learned.
“Can’t I just keep learning painting? With the daughter of Count Leski…”
“With the count’s daughter?”
Daphne clamped her lips shut at Asherad’s question.
“You’ve gotten close already?”
Her eyes widened at the question. Suddenly, an image of the red-haired man flashed in her mind. The man tied to a chair, bleeding slowly to death… Why had he come to mind?
Her heart pounded fiercely for a moment. Daphne shook her head vigorously.
“Just, just—I want to paint!”
“……”
“I want to know more about painting.”
“……”
“Th-then. At least let me keep painting.”
At Daphne’s plea, Asherad mercifully nodded.
“But paint in moderation. I hate the smell of paint.”
She wanted to say goodbye to Artemisia. Could she ask? Daphne glanced at Asherad.
“Then let’s head inside now.”
Daphne nodded and took Asherad’s hand, following him. Her heart, once filled with vibrant colors, felt like it was slowly draining away. Her whole body seemed to lose its strength.
It was when Daphne entered her room, now turned into a studio and bedroom.
“Ah!”
The canvases inside had been shredded. Daphne stared in shock at her paintings. The ones she’d left on the easels to dry—they were all torn. Her first paintings, the ones she’d done absentmindedly—they were gone without a trace.
Even the ones she’d painted through the night without realizing how late it was…
Daphne’s heart crumbled. In her listless life, it had been the one activity that restored her energy. They weren’t masterpieces, but applying those colors had made her so happy.
“Daphne. You’ve got paint on you.”
Asherad grabbed her hand, stopping her. Why would he do this…
Daphne looked toward Asherad and flinched.
“Was it you?”
She’d even used “you” instead of the honorific “Your Majesty.” With trembling eyes, she stared. Asherad’s face stiffened in strange shock.
Thinking back, Asherad had always disapproved of her painting. Even today, he’d declared an end to her lessons.
He’d said he hated the smell of paint. So it made sense he’d torn them up.
“And if it was?”
Asherad’s stiff expression twisted into a smirk. His eyes blazed hot, but in that moment, her heart ached as if something had collapsed.
“You know, didn’t you? I was enjoying it.”
“……”
“It was the only place I could put my heart.”
At Daphne’s choked voice, Asherad took her hand and pressed it to his chest.
“The place for your heart isn’t scraps of canvas—it’s here.”
She felt the warm heat and repulsive heartbeat. Was he saying he’d done this for that? Just because that bothered him?
They weren’t mere scraps of canvas. They were her only refuge, where she could attach her heart and smile. Had even that been so unacceptable?
‘The Crown Prince ordered it. Everyone close to you will leave you.’
Fabian’s voice echoed.
Yes. This man loved things like this. He didn’t see her as the same kind of person from the start… So he’d killed even Fabian, who’d devoted himself to granting her freedom… Killed her very self…
Now he was sealing even this breathing hole.
For one simple reason.
Because it amused him. Just like tormenting a pet dog and finding its reactions cute.
“Get out!”
Daphne shouted. Tears welled up in her eyes this time.
“I said get out!”
Daphne shoved Asherad’s chest with all her might. Did this mean he would keep tormenting her, forever and ever?
An overwhelming despair washed over her.
“Why? Can’t I do that?”
Asherad whispered sweetly. He held her wrist, refusing to let go.
“I was second to your fleeting amusements, wasn’t I?”
His words were soft, but his breath came out rough. Daphne didn’t realize it stemmed from anger at her distraction.
“Getting lost in such trifles. You weren’t looking at me. Yes, better to burn them all.”
“Just kill me! Kill me instead!”
Daphne yelled. She sobbed uncontrollably, not knowing what to do. Why let her learn painting at all if he’d ruin it like this?
“Why would I kill you?”
At Asherad’s words, Daphne lost all reason.
“Oh, right! Why kill your perfect outlet for desires?!”