41. What's on your lips
There was a knock on the door. Daphne sat up.
"Hello."
The soft voice was as soft as a bird's chirping. As Daphne looked at the place with a puzzled expression, a woman in a lavender dress walked slowly toward her.
With every step, a faintly familiar scent wafted.
“Who are you? What brings you here?”
“Oh, didn’t you hear? I was supposed to give you a drawing lesson.”
Ah. I think Asherad said something like that. But do I really have to draw it? The woman smiled as she looked at Daphne's face.
“I guess you don’t really want to learn. Then can I draw a picture here?”
Well, it didn't really matter what she did in this room. The room was spacious. Daphne would just lie down.
“The money I received in return for teaching you how to paint was quite a lot.”
The woman smiled. Her dimple-filled face sparkled and shone. As Daphne nodded as if she were possessed, the woman sat down on the stool next to the bed where Daphne was sitting.
It was a great rudeness to stay in bed while a guest was present, but the woman didn't seem to mind. She smiled and held out her hand.
“Then I guess I should at least say hello to the person who lent me the studio.”
Isn't that a greeting by grabbing her skirt? Why are you shaking hands? When Daphne cautiously held out her hand, she took it and shook it.
“I am Artemisia of the Count Leschi.”
A woman with lively, dark blue eyes smiled.
Artemisia was strange. She really only painted. When she came, the room smelled of the thick, cheap oil paints that were characteristic of oil paints.
She remembered drawing pictures when she was young. She was someone who reminded Daphne of her childhood.
Unlike other people who spoke, Artemisia made her presence known through her rattling noises and distinctive smell.
When she asked Sarah, she said that Artemisia was the second daughter of a Countess. It was obvious that she would look down on Daphne as the daughter of a seductress, for such a nobleman to come and teach her how to paint.
Anyway, Daphne was a woman whom everyone hated and looked down on, so there was no way they could have a good relationship.
Daphne gave up her relationship with Artemisia. That day, Daphne was looking at the sky, and turned her head at the smell of paint coming in. Now that she thinks about it, what is that person painting?
When she was very young, she also learned to draw. Most of what she painted were still lifes. However, the subjects were not visible.
Daphne, whose curiosity was beginning to arise, looked at the canvas without realizing it. However, she could not see it clearly because it was obscured by Artemisia's back.
Artemisia looked back as Daphne moved around with her eyes narrowed.
“I’m drawing an angel.”
Daphne flinched as she smiled as if she knew everything. Artemisia spoke in a friendly manner.
“Yes, look.”
Daphne looked at the painting on the canvas. It was an angel descending with a sword. The angel, the messenger of the gods, looked more like a strong warrior than a soft and gentle figure.
The angel had a somewhat stern expression, with eyes that were wide open and not benevolent. It was more reverent than beautiful. Artemisia shrugged.
“My brother nags me. I’m glad that I can paint the pictures I want to paint in such a nice studio.”
“...”
“You can come closer and take a look. Oh no, don’t touch the paint. You’ll ruin the pretty lily-like dress the young lady is wearing.”
Why is that woman so kind? Doesn't she know anything about herself? Daphne approached her, flinching. She looked like a wary puppy.
When Artemisia gestured to a stool, Daphne took it and sat down. She didn't have to do anything.
It was fun just to watch the brush strokes passing by. Daphne watched it for a long time.
Asherad looked at Daphne. Daphne picked up the yellow paint and painted, not even knowing Asherad was looking.
“You draw well?”
The room after Artemisia left. Daphne was drawing a picture. Asherad narrowed his eyes at her unexpectedly excellent drawing skills. What Daphne was drawing was a daffodil.
The texture of the petals was expressed realistically with brush strokes. As Asherad sat down next to her, Daphne put down her brush and looked at him. Her soft cheeks were stained with paint.
“It’s pretty.”
Daphne's white dress was covered in paint. Daphne lowered her eyes and nodded slightly.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“...”
“And thank you for letting me draw the picture.”
It was the first time Daphne spoke to Asherad. She was absorbed in her painting, as if nothing else mattered.
Asherad looked at Daphne. Daphne, who had a dead expression on her face, was drawing with a rather serious expression.
In the past, Daphne looked at Asherad with that kind of face. Her eyes sparkled with happiness just from the touch of Asherad's fingertips.
It was not a pretty sight to see paint smeared on one's face, but somehow it was strangely beautiful. But he couldn't reach out.
Because he knew it would be as thin and fragile as sugar glass. Asherad knew that fine line very well.
Daphne drew a picture for a long time, leaving Asherad behind. Finally, Asherad couldn't stand it anymore and reached out, pulled Daphne's hair that was tied up like a horse's tail, and kissed it. Even so, Daphne didn't turn around and just looked at the picture.
A man who looks at a woman, not a picture. A woman who only looks at a picture.
Their gazes began to diverge.
Daphne's days were not dull. When the time came, Artemisia would come and teach her how to paint, and when she left, she would practice painting on another canvas.
In the end, she ended up teaching Daphne how to draw, which made her unable to draw herself, but Artemisia didn't care.
“You have talent.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Really, very much! Really, it’s amazing!”
Daphne bit her lip and blushed as Artemisia spoke with shining eyes. This was the first time she had heard such praise.
“Have you ever learned how to draw?”
“I learned it from my mother when I was very young...”
The speech became more and more slurred. When she was very young, Daphne learned to draw because her mother insisted that she should learn manners.
Drawing was quite enjoyable. She wanted to draw her mother's face later. Her teacher always praised her for her talent.
Among her mother's teachings, the one she liked the most was drawing.
But perhaps because she knew that it was not the Emperor's virtue, her mother made a bitter face while looking at Daphne's painting and told her to stop painting.
Daphne cried, but her mother sternly told her that she had much more to learn.
She had forgotten...
'I see. It was because I was talented.'
Daphne smiled bitterly. She turned her head towards Artemisia. Daphne met Artemisia's eyes, who was staring at her intently.
I was the daughter of a witch?
Her mother taught her with the wealth he had acquired through the Emperor's favor. Unlike Artemisia, who had learned painting purely, Daphne had learned painting because of her mother's dark intentions. How disgusting that must have been to that well-bred noble lady.
It was when her dark heart slowly began to raise its head.
“Wow... and, uh.”
"Yes?"
But Artemisia suddenly lifted the canvas and began to draw with charcoal, saying something else. What is she talking about all of a sudden?
“Should I title the painting ‘A sorrowful beauty lost in reminiscence’?”
"Yes?"
This was a first again.
Daphne blinked. Artemisia had a serious expression. Strangely, she didn't say anything like, "Daphne is the daughter of a witch," or something like that.
She just saw her as a model. Even with her hands blackened with charcoal, Artemisia was serious.
“Hey, can you make that sad face again?”
Somehow, this time wasn't so bad.
Asherad looked at Daphne, who was sleeping. Her room was now filled with the smell of oil. Asherad was starting to find the smell of paint annoying.
It was nice that he made her draw a picture.
Daphne regained some of her energy. When she saw Asherad, she asked him to buy her some paints, and she also asked how long Lady Leschi would be staying there.
Yeah, that was it.
The conversation didn't go any further from there.
Asherad looked at the spread-out paper. It looked like a realistic human figure, as if she were practicing being human.
Asherad looked at it with a smirk. Naturally, a cold smile appeared on his lips. He was dissatisfied with something.
But the big thing is that it started to 'demand' something.
Asherad raised his large hand and swept Daphne’s sleeping body. There was a lot of paint on it. He impulsively took out a handkerchief and wiped Daphne.
As his hand was about to wipe her collarbone, his hand touched her chest. With a start, Daphne woke up. At the same time, Daphne lifted her body and stepped back.
Asherad looked at Daphne, who had risen to her feet and stepped back at his touch.
“Are you awake, Daphne?”
Asherad smiled crookedly at the sight of her guarded face. He was just trying to wipe the paint off.
"Your Majesty."
But Daphne looked at this place, then, as if she had given up, approached Asherad.
I wasn't going to hug you today. I really didn't mean to.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”
But that made his stomach twist. Asherad kissed Daphne’s lips. For a moment, her mouth felt like it was going to tear. He bit Daphne’s lips on purpose as if to inflict pain, and turned his head to make her mouth open wider.
Their wet tongues went back and forth. There was a pungent smell of blood, perhaps from the shock of the passionate kiss. Nevertheless, the kiss continued.
Asherad said, looking at Daphne, who was gasping for breath.
“Daphne. Wash up first.”
“...”
“I absolutely hate the smell of paint.”
He wiped the red blood that had formed slightly on Daphne's lips with his thumb. For Asherad, red paint was enough.
For example, the one on this woman's lips...
There was a knock on the door. Daphne sat up.
"Hello."
The soft voice was as soft as a bird's chirping. As Daphne looked at the place with a puzzled expression, a woman in a lavender dress walked slowly toward her.
With every step, a faintly familiar scent wafted.
“Who are you? What brings you here?”
“Oh, didn’t you hear? I was supposed to give you a drawing lesson.”
Ah. I think Asherad said something like that. But do I really have to draw it? The woman smiled as she looked at Daphne's face.
“I guess you don’t really want to learn. Then can I draw a picture here?”
Well, it didn't really matter what she did in this room. The room was spacious. Daphne would just lie down.
“The money I received in return for teaching you how to paint was quite a lot.”
The woman smiled. Her dimple-filled face sparkled and shone. As Daphne nodded as if she were possessed, the woman sat down on the stool next to the bed where Daphne was sitting.
It was a great rudeness to stay in bed while a guest was present, but the woman didn't seem to mind. She smiled and held out her hand.
“Then I guess I should at least say hello to the person who lent me the studio.”
Isn't that a greeting by grabbing her skirt? Why are you shaking hands? When Daphne cautiously held out her hand, she took it and shook it.
“I am Artemisia of the Count Leschi.”
A woman with lively, dark blue eyes smiled.
***
Artemisia was strange. She really only painted. When she came, the room smelled of the thick, cheap oil paints that were characteristic of oil paints.
She remembered drawing pictures when she was young. She was someone who reminded Daphne of her childhood.
Unlike other people who spoke, Artemisia made her presence known through her rattling noises and distinctive smell.
When she asked Sarah, she said that Artemisia was the second daughter of a Countess. It was obvious that she would look down on Daphne as the daughter of a seductress, for such a nobleman to come and teach her how to paint.
Anyway, Daphne was a woman whom everyone hated and looked down on, so there was no way they could have a good relationship.
Daphne gave up her relationship with Artemisia. That day, Daphne was looking at the sky, and turned her head at the smell of paint coming in. Now that she thinks about it, what is that person painting?
When she was very young, she also learned to draw. Most of what she painted were still lifes. However, the subjects were not visible.
Daphne, whose curiosity was beginning to arise, looked at the canvas without realizing it. However, she could not see it clearly because it was obscured by Artemisia's back.
Artemisia looked back as Daphne moved around with her eyes narrowed.
“I’m drawing an angel.”
Daphne flinched as she smiled as if she knew everything. Artemisia spoke in a friendly manner.
“Yes, look.”
Daphne looked at the painting on the canvas. It was an angel descending with a sword. The angel, the messenger of the gods, looked more like a strong warrior than a soft and gentle figure.
The angel had a somewhat stern expression, with eyes that were wide open and not benevolent. It was more reverent than beautiful. Artemisia shrugged.
“My brother nags me. I’m glad that I can paint the pictures I want to paint in such a nice studio.”
“...”
“You can come closer and take a look. Oh no, don’t touch the paint. You’ll ruin the pretty lily-like dress the young lady is wearing.”
Why is that woman so kind? Doesn't she know anything about herself? Daphne approached her, flinching. She looked like a wary puppy.
When Artemisia gestured to a stool, Daphne took it and sat down. She didn't have to do anything.
It was fun just to watch the brush strokes passing by. Daphne watched it for a long time.
***
Asherad looked at Daphne. Daphne picked up the yellow paint and painted, not even knowing Asherad was looking.
“You draw well?”
The room after Artemisia left. Daphne was drawing a picture. Asherad narrowed his eyes at her unexpectedly excellent drawing skills. What Daphne was drawing was a daffodil.
The texture of the petals was expressed realistically with brush strokes. As Asherad sat down next to her, Daphne put down her brush and looked at him. Her soft cheeks were stained with paint.
“It’s pretty.”
Daphne's white dress was covered in paint. Daphne lowered her eyes and nodded slightly.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“...”
“And thank you for letting me draw the picture.”
It was the first time Daphne spoke to Asherad. She was absorbed in her painting, as if nothing else mattered.
Asherad looked at Daphne. Daphne, who had a dead expression on her face, was drawing with a rather serious expression.
In the past, Daphne looked at Asherad with that kind of face. Her eyes sparkled with happiness just from the touch of Asherad's fingertips.
It was not a pretty sight to see paint smeared on one's face, but somehow it was strangely beautiful. But he couldn't reach out.
Because he knew it would be as thin and fragile as sugar glass. Asherad knew that fine line very well.
Daphne drew a picture for a long time, leaving Asherad behind. Finally, Asherad couldn't stand it anymore and reached out, pulled Daphne's hair that was tied up like a horse's tail, and kissed it. Even so, Daphne didn't turn around and just looked at the picture.
A man who looks at a woman, not a picture. A woman who only looks at a picture.
Their gazes began to diverge.
***
Daphne's days were not dull. When the time came, Artemisia would come and teach her how to paint, and when she left, she would practice painting on another canvas.
In the end, she ended up teaching Daphne how to draw, which made her unable to draw herself, but Artemisia didn't care.
“You have talent.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Really, very much! Really, it’s amazing!”
Daphne bit her lip and blushed as Artemisia spoke with shining eyes. This was the first time she had heard such praise.
“Have you ever learned how to draw?”
“I learned it from my mother when I was very young...”
The speech became more and more slurred. When she was very young, Daphne learned to draw because her mother insisted that she should learn manners.
Drawing was quite enjoyable. She wanted to draw her mother's face later. Her teacher always praised her for her talent.
Among her mother's teachings, the one she liked the most was drawing.
But perhaps because she knew that it was not the Emperor's virtue, her mother made a bitter face while looking at Daphne's painting and told her to stop painting.
Daphne cried, but her mother sternly told her that she had much more to learn.
She had forgotten...
'I see. It was because I was talented.'
Daphne smiled bitterly. She turned her head towards Artemisia. Daphne met Artemisia's eyes, who was staring at her intently.
I was the daughter of a witch?
Her mother taught her with the wealth he had acquired through the Emperor's favor. Unlike Artemisia, who had learned painting purely, Daphne had learned painting because of her mother's dark intentions. How disgusting that must have been to that well-bred noble lady.
It was when her dark heart slowly began to raise its head.
“Wow... and, uh.”
"Yes?"
But Artemisia suddenly lifted the canvas and began to draw with charcoal, saying something else. What is she talking about all of a sudden?
“Should I title the painting ‘A sorrowful beauty lost in reminiscence’?”
"Yes?"
This was a first again.
Daphne blinked. Artemisia had a serious expression. Strangely, she didn't say anything like, "Daphne is the daughter of a witch," or something like that.
She just saw her as a model. Even with her hands blackened with charcoal, Artemisia was serious.
“Hey, can you make that sad face again?”
Somehow, this time wasn't so bad.
***
Asherad looked at Daphne, who was sleeping. Her room was now filled with the smell of oil. Asherad was starting to find the smell of paint annoying.
It was nice that he made her draw a picture.
Daphne regained some of her energy. When she saw Asherad, she asked him to buy her some paints, and she also asked how long Lady Leschi would be staying there.
Yeah, that was it.
The conversation didn't go any further from there.
Asherad looked at the spread-out paper. It looked like a realistic human figure, as if she were practicing being human.
Asherad looked at it with a smirk. Naturally, a cold smile appeared on his lips. He was dissatisfied with something.
But the big thing is that it started to 'demand' something.
Asherad raised his large hand and swept Daphne’s sleeping body. There was a lot of paint on it. He impulsively took out a handkerchief and wiped Daphne.
As his hand was about to wipe her collarbone, his hand touched her chest. With a start, Daphne woke up. At the same time, Daphne lifted her body and stepped back.
Asherad looked at Daphne, who had risen to her feet and stepped back at his touch.
“Are you awake, Daphne?”
Asherad smiled crookedly at the sight of her guarded face. He was just trying to wipe the paint off.
"Your Majesty."
But Daphne looked at this place, then, as if she had given up, approached Asherad.
I wasn't going to hug you today. I really didn't mean to.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”
But that made his stomach twist. Asherad kissed Daphne’s lips. For a moment, her mouth felt like it was going to tear. He bit Daphne’s lips on purpose as if to inflict pain, and turned his head to make her mouth open wider.
Their wet tongues went back and forth. There was a pungent smell of blood, perhaps from the shock of the passionate kiss. Nevertheless, the kiss continued.
Asherad said, looking at Daphne, who was gasping for breath.
“Daphne. Wash up first.”
“...”
“I absolutely hate the smell of paint.”
He wiped the red blood that had formed slightly on Daphne's lips with his thumb. For Asherad, red paint was enough.
For example, the one on this woman's lips...
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