~Chapter 100~
The audience gasped in surprise, then soon burst into loud applause.
It felt like an even warmer response than when my self-portrait had been revealed.
“Truly beautiful!”
I looked at the canvas that had been hidden under the white cloth.
It was Damien—on the rowboat, gazing up at the fireworks.
His silver hair, shining like moonlight, reflected the many colors of the fireworks, glowing like opal. His amethyst eyes, usually a deep purple, were lit with shades of red, green, and blue.
The surroundings were pitch-black, but Damien alone was bathed in light, filled with awe and wonder as he looked up at the sky.
That was the moment I had captured on canvas.
The host asked me, “Artist, could you explain this piece? We can guess from the beauty alone, but the title A Beautiful Moment—why exactly did you choose that?”
“Of course.”
Even as I answered, my eyes stayed fixed on Damien, still frozen in astonishment.
“There’s no hidden meaning. It’s simply a moment I found beautiful—the moment I looked at the person in this painting.”
I thought back to why I had been unable to stop painting Damien ever since the fireworks. It must be because I thought he was beautiful then… and because I liked him.
No matter how cursed, no matter if others called him a killer, a monster—
I wanted to say that to me, Damien was the most beautiful person.
“When we watched the fireworks a few days ago, the colors reflected on his face at the very first spark. That’s what I wanted to capture.”
That instant was carved into my mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday.
But memories fade. That’s why I wanted to record it forever.
“It was like when I first met him. Back then, it felt as though the colorless world suddenly turned bright and beautiful.”
Damien’s amethyst eyes trembled as they stayed fixed on me.
I smiled toward him.
“That’s why I had to paint this moment.”
The host clapped cheerfully. “What a moving story behind such a beautiful painting!”
The audience whispered among themselves:
“Isn’t that the Grand Duke Maledictus?”
“Yes… She really must love him. Look at how much affection is in that painting.”
“People said it was just a contract marriage, but maybe it was love all along?”
Meanwhile, the experts and patrons who sponsored the contest studied my work carefully, some jotting down notes, some nodding with satisfaction.
But their opinions didn’t matter to me. My eyes were on Damien alone.
The host announced the end of the first part of the ceremony. Lights dimmed, and I descended from the stage.
Before I reached the bottom step, I saw familiar shoes waiting.
“Damien! Did you see the—”
I didn’t finish, because Damien pulled me straight into his arms.
I placed my hands on his trembling back.
“…I saw it. I truly saw it. I’m so happy. I never knew you saw me as that beautiful.”
He pulled back at last, smiling with a happiness that made my chest tighten.
“I am the happiest man alive.”
I almost wanted to paint that smile right there.
And then, strangely, my heart skipped a beat.
‘Why… do I keep wanting to paint Damien again and again?’
Later at the Hall
After returning from the washroom, I moved to my seat beside Damien.
“Ruby, you’re back.”
“Yes.”
“Lend me your ear for a moment.”
I leaned closer, and he whispered:
“People are talking a lot about you. Many want your paintings.”
I glanced around. Indeed, nobles murmured about Gustav Milleono—the strange, dark-yet-beautiful style, the skulls, the ghosts, the uniqueness.
Damien added, “Even Marquis Pierre Mercolini seemed interested.”
“Mercolini? Really?”
I was surprised. He was famous for his sharp eye and generous patronage—the very patron I had secretly hoped for.
But when I looked, his expression seemed cold.
Damien shook his head. “No, when your work was revealed, he was clearly struck. You’ll see—good things will come.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
More rumors circulated: how unexpected it was that the grand prize winner was the Duchess, whether I’d even accept sponsorships, why I hadn’t surfaced until now.
I ignored most of it—until one drunk, arrogant voice rang out.
“The Duchess? Hah. Blood doesn’t change, no matter how fancy the title.”
I stiffened.
“Those paintings? Even I could paint like that. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”
Damien’s gaze turned cold as ice.
I turned too—toward a fat, familiar middle-aged man.
“…Baron.”
The greedy noble who had once tried to marry me for my dowry—
The same man who later married Cecilia for her bail money.
Now he was drunk, sneering.
“Everyone praises her as an artist? Laughable. She just jumped ship, marrying up for an easy life.”
“Jumped… ship?”
The word caught everyone’s attention.
“That’s right! She was supposed to marry me first—the great Baron. Then she dumped me without loyalty, switching to the Duke instead!”
He shouted without even realizing I was watching him.
Damien’s low voice cut through the noise.
“Baron.”
The man spun around angrily—only to meet my eyes. He froze.
“D-Duchess? Wait, no, I—ugh!”
He gasped as Damien’s hand pressed down hard on his shoulder, pinning him in place.
“You… You’re hurting me! Agh!”
I stepped closer, looking into his pale, sweating face.
And then I smiled.
“How interesting. With that lying mouth, were you the one who killed Marquis Sontra, Countess Mirienze, and the Calvin family?”
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Survivors were there—the young Marquis Sontra, the widowed Count Mirienze, and Robert Calvin, heir to a ruined house.
Their furious eyes all turned toward the Baron.
The Baron’s face went deathly pale.
