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T/N: Only proves Edmund never looked properly at Daphne tsk
E/N: It is pretty hard to describe people. I won't even be able to describe my parents to direct a painting. But he only remembers the eye and hair color lol.
Suddenly, the door swung open and Damian burst in. He had rushed immediately after hearing Vent’s words, without having time to think of anything else. Only thing he saw was the firmly closed door. Unable to bear the seemingly endless conversation between Edmund and Alec, he just burst inside.
‘Even an eight-year-old wouldn’t do this.’
Damian ignored feeling ashamed of his actions and continued walking inside the office. He was about to admit how his actions had been rude and ask for his father’s forgiveness when he noticed the strange object on Edmund’s desk.
‘A rag?’
He was curious as to why there was a rag on Edmund’s desk, but froze when he realized that what looked like a pattern from afar were actually bloodstains. He felt his blood turn cold. At the same time, his subordinate’s words echoed in his mind.
“Madam… they found her!”
There was no need to ask what had been found, as there was only one person the Duchy had been looking for – his mother. He had no doubt it was his mother.
‘Then that…’
The answer was clear.
“... Is it Mother’s?”
There was no direct response, but Damian could tell – that unidentified piece of cloth was hers.
“Is she alive?” When he received no answer again, he asked a different question, “Then, is she dead?”
“Damian, this isn’t something you should be involved with.”
His answer was evasive, but Damian immediately understood what it meant. He hesitated and took a step back.
“Are you saying she’s dead?”
Damian let out a hollow laugh. A strange feeling surged within him, a feeling he couldn’t control, and he clenched his fists as he muttered, “That’s nonsense.”
Dead?
‘That woman?’
Damian wavered and faltered back, this time speaking with more certainty and in a louder voice, “Mother is not dead. Never.”
It was true that he wished for her to disappear – sometimes, yes – but he never wished it to happen like this.
Damian turned around and ran off somewhere. He didn’t realize how fast his heart was racing.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
After Damian ran away and Alec was sent away, Edmund was left alone, lost in thought. He couldn’t deny it – Daphne was on Edmund’s mind.
“Have you ever thought of me as your wife?”
Edmund knew well that this concern was tied to the events just before she disappeared.
Daphne disappeared.
Despite Alec’s report, Edmund refused to believe that Daphne was dead. Moments earlier, he’d dismissed the obvious evidence, demanding they bring back even a scrap of her remains. It was a ridiculous request, even by his own standards. Yet, Edmund had no intention of reversing his decision. Though he was relying solely on intuition, he had an uncanny certainty that his choice was not wrong.
If Daphne had truly fallen victim to a mutated monster, her remains would have been completely devoured – flesh, bones, and all.
The fact that even her robe remained intact was a stroke of luck.
“...”
As he forced himself to look away from the documents, his gaze naturally drifted toward the window – to Daphne’s room.
Edmund pondered why he was so concerned with Daphne. He was certain that this feeling would not disappear and bother him until he didn’t sort out his thoughts. Finally, Edmund set the documents aside.
First, he and Daphne were bound by a contract. Was he angry because she broke the contract? The thought made Edmund recall the contract.
Knowing Edmund’s secret, Daphne wasn’t allowed to meet or contact outsiders without his permission. That means her disappearance was a clear violation of their contract.
Moreover, Daphne had already disappeared once for three days just a month ago during a banquet in the capital.
‘Or was it because she was afraid that the secret was leaked?’
Both were plausible reasons. Even if the contract could be terminated with mutual consent, Edmund had nothing to lose. That left only one possibility – leaking his secret.
Having finally found the answer, Edmund realized that he had to find Daphne to rid himself of this unsettling emotion. He immediately called for his aide.
“Johann, bring a painter.”
“Painter, Your Excellency?” Johann was taken aback by Edmund’s sudden order.
“I need someone to paint Daphne’s portrait.”
“Are you…” Johann’s eyes widened. “We can’t do that.”
Johann quickly added, “If Marquis Bled learns that Madam disappeared, he won’t sit idly. He’ll definitely seize any excuse to cause trouble.”
Johann’s objection was valid. Marquis Bled still has some power in the capital although he was in prison.
“Moreover, the timing is terrible.”
It had been less than a week since Damian’s coming-of-age ceremony.
Before the contract, five years ago when Edmund was still unmarried, the Emperor had grown increasingly wary of Edmund’s rapidly growing power. The Emperor’s plan was to marry Edmund to the Imperial Princess, thereby absorbing his strength. But just as this marriage was being arranged, Edmund suddenly announced his own marriage.
Yet, the Emperor did not give up. Despite the initial shock of Edmund’s sudden marriage, the Emperor had become desperate over the past two years to marry Edmund to the Imperial Princess, especially with no children born from his marriage.
If the Emperor heard of Daphne’s disappearance, he would stop at nothing to force a divorce and have the Imperial Princess marry Edmund. In such a case, the Emperor and Imperial Princess would make sure that their bloodline can inherit the Duchy, even if it means driving Damian out.
“It will only bring harm if news of Madam’s death is known. Unless Young Master Damian’s position is more stable, it is impossible right now.”
It was an open secret that Damian, the sole successor, was an illegitimate child.
“Johann,” listening to Johann in silence, Edmund rasped in a low voice, “Daphne is not dead.”
“Your Excellency…!”
Edmund released an aura that silenced Johann’s voice. Realizing the shift in the atmosphere, Johann closed his mouth.
“Only her robe was found, but her body was nowhere to be found.”
Johann bit back the words he was about to say, ‘That’s exactly the problem.’
“Don’t make me say it twice. Bring the painter.”
“... Yes.” Johann immediately followed Edmund’s orders.
— — —
Fortunately, there was only one painter in the sparsely populated territory, and he arrived as soon as the blizzard subsided. The painter, who had been dragged in without explanation, was startled to see Edmund seated in the room.
“I-I greet Your Excellency!”
“Sit down.”
The painter, visibly nervous, took a seat. Soon, a canvas, brushes, and paints were set before the painter, who hesitantly picked up a brush.
“Y-Your Excellency, will you please maintain that pose?”
At the moment, Edmund was half-turned toward the window. As the painter decided upon the posture, Edmund turned to face him, fully revealing his face.
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re not going to paint me, but my wife."
“Then, where is the Duchess?”
‘Is she about to come down?’ The painter tilted his head in confusion. Only the Duke and his closest aides were in the room.
“I heard you can draw people based on description alone.”
It was a worthless ability that had never been used before. The painter, who had spent many years in obscurity, instinctively nodded.
“Please describe the Duchess in detail.”
“She has brown hair and green eyes. And…”
The painter quickly scanned the paints, looking for ones to mix brown and green. It was best to hear the full description first. But no more words came after the mention of her hair and eye color. The painter, knowing that people often struggled with initial descriptions, prompted Edmund on what to say.
“Please describe specific details, like her expression, placement of her moles, length of her eyebrows, height of her brow arches – those kinds of things.”
Edmund broke his silence, “And…” his lips moved but no words followed.
“Your Excellency?”
The painter’s voice brought Edmund back, but he was already sinking into confusion. How could this be? He couldn’t remember the face of the person he had lived under the same roof with for five years.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Philip was an unknown artist.
A talent he discovered by chance in his youth earned him significant attention in his small village, leading his family to fully support his move to the capital. However, in a city where only the best of the best gathered, Philip was nothing but a small, insignificant figure among the crowd.
He endured fifteen years in the capital, thinking of the family that had supported him, but eventually, he ended his life as an obscure artist and returned to his hometown.
That was already two months ago.
Just when he was nearly giving up on his life as an artist, he was given the chance to paint the portrait of the Duchess Winter. Philip swallowed hard as he looked at the top-quality canvas, brushes, and paints delivered to him.
“Please take it.”
Philip received a check from the servant.
“Th-thousand gold?!”
Startled, Philip jumped up from his seat. A thousand gold was enough to support his family of five for a year without needing to work.
“His Excellency said the remaining thousand gold will be paid upon completion of the painting.”
A total of two thousand gold.
The unimaginable amount made Philip’s head spin. Even the highest-paid artist in the capital, excluding the royal painters, would earn at most a thousand gold per painting, yet here he was, being offered two thousand. His heart raced.
“But until then, you must live in this mansion.”
“Y-yes, of course. That’s no problem at all.”
Philip, who was naturally quick with his hands, felt confident he could complete the painting within a month, even if it meant working through the nights. He just needed to dedicate himself to the painting for a month. With excitement, Philip laid down on the bed in the room where he was given his accommodation.
His Excellency had said he would call him again tomorrow, so the real work would begin then.
‘He was really beautiful.’
The painter shuddered at the thought of Edmund’s face.