44. Kill you
Asherad's eyes widened at those words. This time, he looked surprised.
Daphne, who had always been hurt and shaken by him, felt a sense of elation when she realized that her words had shaken Asherad.
An ugly sense of omnipotence that even she could hurt Asherad.
Daphne forced a smile, her tears falling.
“Why don’t you just tell me now? You don’t care about my opinion.”
She screamed. Asherad twisted his lips at the sight of her anger. He strode over to her and placed his hand on his belt. Daphne shut her eyes tightly in anticipation of the lovemaking that was about to follow.
But he let go of his belt and went out. Daphne gasped and glared at the door he had left through.
She looked at what she was painting, only the canvas was torn in half.
Of course, the painting was not finished. However, there was a sketch of the boy and girl she had met when she first went to the palace, with only the base colors painted on.
The memory of that day is still vivid. The palace where she got lost, and the boy who appeared there.
Even after she got home, she couldn't sleep for a while because of the excitement. At that time, they smiled without knowing anything.
Since Daphne is not an expert like Artemisia, she cannot perfectly implement what she imagined. She can only implement memories.
If her mother hadn't done that, wouldn't he and Asherad have met normally by chance?
Couldn't they have just looked at each other and smiled? This man wouldn't have suffocated her for the rest of her life.
She knew it was absolutely impossible, but that was why she was able to draw a picture in her imagination. A picture she wanted to draw and keep for herself.
She thought that if she thought about it, she would find comfort.
If.
On the disheveled canvas, she saw the painting that Artemisia had left behind. Perhaps because he recognized that it was not Daphne’s, it was not torn. Daphne approached it as if in a trance.
A painting of a woman grabbing a man by the hair and beheading him. A widow beheaded the general of Assala, who had invaded the border town of Peneus.
But the widow's face was that of Artemisia, and the one lying dead with his head cut off and blood gushing out was that of a man.
'When I was a little younger and more innocent. This is the face of the boy who raped me. He was my art teacher.'
Asherad's eyes widened at those words. This time, he looked surprised.
Daphne, who had always been hurt and shaken by him, felt a sense of elation when she realized that her words had shaken Asherad.
An ugly sense of omnipotence that even she could hurt Asherad.
Daphne forced a smile, her tears falling.
“Why don’t you just tell me now? You don’t care about my opinion.”
She screamed. Asherad twisted his lips at the sight of her anger. He strode over to her and placed his hand on his belt. Daphne shut her eyes tightly in anticipation of the lovemaking that was about to follow.
But he let go of his belt and went out. Daphne gasped and glared at the door he had left through.
She looked at what she was painting, only the canvas was torn in half.
Of course, the painting was not finished. However, there was a sketch of the boy and girl she had met when she first went to the palace, with only the base colors painted on.
The memory of that day is still vivid. The palace where she got lost, and the boy who appeared there.
Even after she got home, she couldn't sleep for a while because of the excitement. At that time, they smiled without knowing anything.
Since Daphne is not an expert like Artemisia, she cannot perfectly implement what she imagined. She can only implement memories.
If her mother hadn't done that, wouldn't he and Asherad have met normally by chance?
Couldn't they have just looked at each other and smiled? This man wouldn't have suffocated her for the rest of her life.
She knew it was absolutely impossible, but that was why she was able to draw a picture in her imagination. A picture she wanted to draw and keep for herself.
She thought that if she thought about it, she would find comfort.
If.
On the disheveled canvas, she saw the painting that Artemisia had left behind. Perhaps because he recognized that it was not Daphne’s, it was not torn. Daphne approached it as if in a trance.
A painting of a woman grabbing a man by the hair and beheading him. A widow beheaded the general of Assala, who had invaded the border town of Peneus.
But the widow's face was that of Artemisia, and the one lying dead with his head cut off and blood gushing out was that of a man.
'When I was a little younger and more innocent. This is the face of the boy who raped me. He was my art teacher.'
Describing the painting, Artemisia spoke softly. When Daphne flinched at this, Artemisia raised the corners of her lips coldly and said.
'Every time I hate that kid. I do it over and over again.'
'...'
'I feel like I've become holy Judith.'
Artemisia released her pent-up emotions by pressing down on her hatred in this painting. Even with a single strong brushstroke, you can feel the hatred and sadness coming to life.
'I feel sorry for you for some reason. I feel like I should say something as your art teacher.'
'...'
'You don't have the skill yet, so it would be difficult to draw this. Let's try painting over it.'
'...A repaint? I know it's presumptuous, but is it on top of your painting?'
'Yes. It's homework. On this.'
Artemisia said while looking at the painting.
'Draw your face and the face of the person you hate the most.'
Daphne stared blankly at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut. She realized what she had to draw now.
There was no need to draw pictures to escape from, imagining what-ifs. What was needed now was to face her emotions.
Daphne straightened up the fallen easel and placed the painting on it. She seemed to hesitate for a moment.
Artemisia was notified by the Emperor that she would be teaching Daphne until today. Asherad did not show any particular interest. He still generously provided her with the materials, gave her a room after she finished painting, and treated her generously while staying in the palace.
Still, the moment she found Asherad with Daphne, she had a strange feeling.
That man was hiding a pitch-black hell in the abyss. A bottomless pit filled with malice, a hell so empty that it lacked any warm feelings.
And this man wants to keep his bride locked in that hell.
A bride like no one else in the world, his own.
So this notice from the Emperor to work only until today was not particularly surprising.
Asherad wanted to 'monopolize' Daphne, so she thought that she might have to leave this place soon, since she shared the same world with Daphne.
Maybe I'll die...
Although she didn't tell Count Leschi, Artemisia had a feeling that way. Asherad seemed to be giving off a strange, dangerous smell.
Even if they look at it only from an objective perspective, didn't he find out that she was the painter Arete and threaten him? This was the image of a kind and courageous Emperor.
It wasn't that she was afraid of Asherad's hammer.
This was because Artemisia had no particular attachment to life.
She couldn't tell if it was because of something that happened to her as a child, or if it was because she became crazy about drawing and burned her whole soul.
“Daphne, I’m here.”
She opened the door with a bright voice on purpose, because she thought Daphne would be discouraged. When there was no answer to her knock, she felt something strange and opened the door.
Artemisia opened her eyes wide at the sight that came into the room.
"This..."
The paintings were scattered on the floor. Upon closer inspection, she could see marks on the canvas, as if someone had torn it with a knife.
"Ah!"
Artemisia looked at the canvas in pain as if she had been stabbed. Daphne could not have done that...
Artemisia headed into the room. Daphne stood looking out the window.
"Daphne."
Artemisia called her name. When Daphne turned her head, Artemisia tilted her head. Objectively, Daphne was beautiful.
Moderately tanned skin, blue eyes that seem to hold back tears, and sparkling blonde hair.
But to Artemisia's eyes, the smiling face seemed like a work of art more beautiful than anything else. Why, something had definitely changed.
“What happened to the painting? Was it Daphne who did it?”
"No."
“Then, His Majesty?”
Daphne smiled sadly. As Artemisia cursed the Emperor inwardly, Daphne opened her lips.
“But I did the homework you gave me instead.”
“...”
“Look.”
When Daphne pointed to the canvas, she looked at it with narrowed eyes. The corners of Artemisia's mouth gradually rose.
The Emperor was beheaded. The strong Daphne was condemning with her sword.
There were strong brush strokes. Artemisia smiled as she looked at the person she had revived. Yes, this was what she had hoped for. She had hoped that this woman would rise without collapsing like herself. Because Daphne seemed to see herself, who had fallen to merciless violence before.
No, because it looked more miserable than himself.
“I thought about it, but I don’t think I could make a living from drawing. It’s fun, but I’m not good at it.”
“...”
“Still, Artemisia.”
Daphne, who had always called Artemisia 'Miss', was the first to step forward.
“Isn’t this a good job on the assignment you gave me?”
Artemisia nodded at those words.
But that was enough.
“I have nothing more to teach you. You have nothing to worry about now.”
Artemisia spoke in a bright voice. Daphne looked at Artemisia with a gentle smile. Artemisia thought that this poor woman would be missed quite a bit.
She had no choice but to meet this woman due to the Emperor's threats. But it was Artemisia who comforted her. It felt like she was saving her past self.
“It is a shame that I cannot see you anymore by Hia Majesty’s order.”
Daphne shook her head at Artemisia's words.
“No, we will meet.”
“...”
“I want to meet you again.”
“...”
“Sooner or later. But not necessarily sooner.”
Daphne's eyes sparkled. The face of the woman who was falling was radiating light.
On this day, Daphne killed the Asherad within her for the first time.
In reality, she was too weak and didn't even have the strength to kill Asherad. But the moment she stood up for herself, she was no longer helpless.
But Daphne was unaware of it. The difference between Artemisia's painting and Daphne's painting was that, unlike the man who had died in agony with his head cut off, the Emperor had died peacefully with his eyes closed, and Daphne also had a sorrowful expression.
'Every time I hate that kid. I do it over and over again.'
'...'
'I feel like I've become holy Judith.'
Artemisia released her pent-up emotions by pressing down on her hatred in this painting. Even with a single strong brushstroke, you can feel the hatred and sadness coming to life.
'I feel sorry for you for some reason. I feel like I should say something as your art teacher.'
'...'
'You don't have the skill yet, so it would be difficult to draw this. Let's try painting over it.'
'...A repaint? I know it's presumptuous, but is it on top of your painting?'
'Yes. It's homework. On this.'
Artemisia said while looking at the painting.
'Draw your face and the face of the person you hate the most.'
Daphne stared blankly at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut. She realized what she had to draw now.
There was no need to draw pictures to escape from, imagining what-ifs. What was needed now was to face her emotions.
Daphne straightened up the fallen easel and placed the painting on it. She seemed to hesitate for a moment.
Artemisia was notified by the Emperor that she would be teaching Daphne until today. Asherad did not show any particular interest. He still generously provided her with the materials, gave her a room after she finished painting, and treated her generously while staying in the palace.
Still, the moment she found Asherad with Daphne, she had a strange feeling.
That man was hiding a pitch-black hell in the abyss. A bottomless pit filled with malice, a hell so empty that it lacked any warm feelings.
And this man wants to keep his bride locked in that hell.
A bride like no one else in the world, his own.
So this notice from the Emperor to work only until today was not particularly surprising.
Asherad wanted to 'monopolize' Daphne, so she thought that she might have to leave this place soon, since she shared the same world with Daphne.
Maybe I'll die...
Although she didn't tell Count Leschi, Artemisia had a feeling that way. Asherad seemed to be giving off a strange, dangerous smell.
Even if they look at it only from an objective perspective, didn't he find out that she was the painter Arete and threaten him? This was the image of a kind and courageous Emperor.
It wasn't that she was afraid of Asherad's hammer.
This was because Artemisia had no particular attachment to life.
She couldn't tell if it was because of something that happened to her as a child, or if it was because she became crazy about drawing and burned her whole soul.
“Daphne, I’m here.”
She opened the door with a bright voice on purpose, because she thought Daphne would be discouraged. When there was no answer to her knock, she felt something strange and opened the door.
Artemisia opened her eyes wide at the sight that came into the room.
"This..."
The paintings were scattered on the floor. Upon closer inspection, she could see marks on the canvas, as if someone had torn it with a knife.
"Ah!"
Artemisia looked at the canvas in pain as if she had been stabbed. Daphne could not have done that...
Artemisia headed into the room. Daphne stood looking out the window.
"Daphne."
Artemisia called her name. When Daphne turned her head, Artemisia tilted her head. Objectively, Daphne was beautiful.
Moderately tanned skin, blue eyes that seem to hold back tears, and sparkling blonde hair.
But to Artemisia's eyes, the smiling face seemed like a work of art more beautiful than anything else. Why, something had definitely changed.
“What happened to the painting? Was it Daphne who did it?”
"No."
“Then, His Majesty?”
Daphne smiled sadly. As Artemisia cursed the Emperor inwardly, Daphne opened her lips.
“But I did the homework you gave me instead.”
“...”
“Look.”
When Daphne pointed to the canvas, she looked at it with narrowed eyes. The corners of Artemisia's mouth gradually rose.
The Emperor was beheaded. The strong Daphne was condemning with her sword.
There were strong brush strokes. Artemisia smiled as she looked at the person she had revived. Yes, this was what she had hoped for. She had hoped that this woman would rise without collapsing like herself. Because Daphne seemed to see herself, who had fallen to merciless violence before.
No, because it looked more miserable than himself.
“I thought about it, but I don’t think I could make a living from drawing. It’s fun, but I’m not good at it.”
“...”
“Still, Artemisia.”
Daphne, who had always called Artemisia 'Miss', was the first to step forward.
“Isn’t this a good job on the assignment you gave me?”
Artemisia nodded at those words.
But that was enough.
“I have nothing more to teach you. You have nothing to worry about now.”
Artemisia spoke in a bright voice. Daphne looked at Artemisia with a gentle smile. Artemisia thought that this poor woman would be missed quite a bit.
She had no choice but to meet this woman due to the Emperor's threats. But it was Artemisia who comforted her. It felt like she was saving her past self.
“It is a shame that I cannot see you anymore by Hia Majesty’s order.”
Daphne shook her head at Artemisia's words.
“No, we will meet.”
“...”
“I want to meet you again.”
“...”
“Sooner or later. But not necessarily sooner.”
Daphne's eyes sparkled. The face of the woman who was falling was radiating light.
On this day, Daphne killed the Asherad within her for the first time.
In reality, she was too weak and didn't even have the strength to kill Asherad. But the moment she stood up for herself, she was no longer helpless.
But Daphne was unaware of it. The difference between Artemisia's painting and Daphne's painting was that, unlike the man who had died in agony with his head cut off, the Emperor had died peacefully with his eyes closed, and Daphne also had a sorrowful expression.
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