DDP 23

chapter 23

Velita scoffed. Her clothes had always been like this, and the sleeves were merely covering her arms to prevent anyone from catching her cold. And now he’s acting like that.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the broken cup before returning.

“Alright, then, I suppose I’ll sit.”

Someone coming in sick, and the first thing he thinks about is getting close… that one’s hopeless.

Velita lowered the sleeve that had been shielding her mouth and trudged over to the nearby sofa, sinking into it. If he had wanted to get infected, it would have happened anyway—she didn’t care if others caught a cold.

‘My head still aches a little,’ she thought.

A brief silence passed. Roman, puffed up with strange expectations, finally spoke.

“Are you… still in a lot of pain?”

“Not really. It’s more that I’ve never been sick, so it’s a bit inconvenient.”

Velita rubbed her forehead half-heartedly, as if the discomfort itself were tedious.

Then, leaning back into the cushion, she looked at Roman with eyes that were both arrogant and defiant. Roman tilted his head, unsure of her intentions.

‘He definitely said he wanted my portrait,’ she thought.

Velita recalled his words, both at Sylvester’s house and recently when he had followed her to her room.

“Why would I tell you to sell a portrait to your lover?”

“Well, I heard it was for a collection,” Roman had said.

“That too… but look, you are perfect,” Velita continued.

“What do you mean?”

“I fell in love at first sight with that painting. I tried to buy it, and then… I realized it was a real person. The woman in the painting appeared right in front of me. Which would you look at more?”

She had woken up and immediately sought out Roman for a reason. Instead of pressing her forehead further, she propped her chin awkwardly on the armrest.

“…You said you wanted my portrait,” she asked, nodding toward him.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Roman responded quickly.

“Of course! Naturally! I do want it, but, if possible, I would prefer… the lady herself…”

Velita raised an eyebrow sharply. He steeled his gaze.

Ssshh.

Even without saying a word, his eyes seemed to scold her. Flustered, Roman hastily clarified.

“…I mean… I do want it! But you can’t collect a person, can you? A portrait will be enough for me. Yes.”

A faint smile tugged at Velita’s lips.

Honestly, she wondered what good it would do to have someone else’s portrait of her, but she decided to take advantage of Roman’s collector’s instinct. Her lips, reddened slightly from lingering fever, parted.

“Then I’ll willingly allow it. You can paint me—but only someone as skilled as Sylvester.”

Roman blinked in surprise. Hesitantly, he asked,

“If you permit it, I’d have thought a painter would do it anyway… Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really letting me have it painted?”

“Yes. But as I said, it must be someone as talented as Sylvester.”

Roman’s eyes darted rapidly, apparently considering potential artists he knew.

“….”

But it seemed no one he knew met Velita’s high aesthetic standards.

Soon, as expected, Roman awkwardly spoke.

“…However, Sylvester’s work is so unique that, to be honest, it will be difficult to find anyone who can match his skill.”

Velita blinked lazily.

She had said “as skilled as Sylvester,” but she herself knew it would be hard to find such a person.

She tapped the armrest with her other hand, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Then it may take some time to inquire, but I’ll do my best to find someone. I don’t want to waste this rare opportunity.”

“Alright. As long as they’re very skilled. I imagine it would be impossible to find someone on Sylvester’s level anyway…”

“Exactly. If we want to be satisfied, we’d have to meet several well-known painters first. What a hassle.”

Roman muttered as if it were troublesome, yet his expression was radiant with unexpected joy.

“Ah.”

Seeing that smile, Velita suddenly thought of someone. She added,

“However, one condition. Keep it a secret from Sylvester that I permitted this.”

Roman nodded smoothly. The fact that he didn’t ask why suggested he was aware that Sylvester and Velita were lovers.

He unclasped his hands and took paper from the desk drawer.

“Understood. Once I find a suitable painter, I’ll send a messenger along with a gift as if it’s a token of this commission.”

Roman dipped his quill in ink and began writing. From a glance, it looked like a list of names.

“Good.”

Velita watched him write in elegant handwriting.

Well, she had said all she needed to say. She straightened her robes and opened her cloak, ready to leave.

Roman looked up.

“You’re leaving?”

“That’s all I needed.”

“Already? Don’t you want to stay a bit? It’s cold, have some warm tea.”

“No.”

“Shall I see you out?”

“I have servants, no need.”

As expected, Roman tried a few times to stop her.

There was no point staying longer while sick. Velita waved casually without looking back.

Behind her, Roman cautiously said goodbye.

Still, Roman was wealthy, obedient, and interested in her. A useful person, good for gathering information later.

‘Well… he’s not a bad guy.’

Velita opened the heavy office door. A maid waiting nearby bowed quickly.

“You’ve returned, Lady Velita.”

“Mm.”

Even here, someone had been waiting. Velita glanced at the maid and strode toward her room.

The maid quickly followed, keeping pace.

“Shall I lead you to your room?”

“Yes, I need to rest a bit.”

“I’ll go ahead.”

They walked in silence toward the annex. The maid occasionally glanced back at Velita, checking if she was keeping up.

Velita slowed her pace slightly, as the maid seemed to struggle a little keeping up with her usual speed.

‘…….’

Despite the pulsing headache with each step, the mansion felt peaceful. Velita gazed out at the gentle scenery of Barsen through the hallway windows.

‘I need to see if the same effect happens with another painter.’

She didn’t think any random painter could affect her, but she needed to confirm.

It made sense that Kesis’s portrait had trapped her, but why Sylvester released her was a mystery.

She didn’t know the full story, but Kesis had teamed up with Rastavan.

And Rastavan, who created the world, possessed a power beyond comprehension for ordinary demons.

A power resembling magic in form but unlike anything in nature—divine power.

With such power, imprisoning her in Kesis’s portrait wouldn’t have been difficult.

‘The question is, why did he need Kesis for the seal, why did Kesis imprison me… and how did Sylvester alone release me?’

Why Kesis and Rastavan collaborated, or what spell sealed her in the frame, was lost to time.

But she had to understand why a seal that didn’t budge despite her struggles could be undone instantly by Sylvester.

‘It can’t even be explained as mere luck.’

Divine luck requires the heavens, yet Rastavan, who created those heavens, would never grant her luck.

‘He was trying to trap me invisibly.’

Velita recalled the darkness that still felt close.

It had been pitch-black, utterly empty, without a single gap—a perfect space.

So perfect, it could have been the vast darkness that existed before the world.

Yet that perfect portrait, over countless years, was ruined in an instant by Sylvester.

The painting absorbed the fake Velita Sylvester created, releasing the real Velita.

The fact that her true self had been sucked into a portrait made solely to imprison her suggested the frame recognized Sylvester’s painting as her.

No random painting could have undone Rastavan’s spell.

So the only thing Sylvester and Kesis had in common was that they were both “genius painters.”

Kesis had divine power; Sylvester had none.

Indeed, during the time spent with Sylvester, Velita had felt no trace of divine power from him.

‘All speculation, of course….’

He didn’t even follow a religion and was an orphan of unknown origin.

‘The secret of the power that freed me must lie in the fact that both Sylvester and Kesis are painters, and in that kiss Sylvester gave my portrait.’

Lost in thought, Velita soon reached her room and stopped.

“Lady Velita, you’re back,” said Elly, now a familiar face, greeting her at the door.

She had been standing there the whole time. Elly opened the door with a gentle smile.

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

The maid who had guided her earlier left, seeming to have other tasks. Velita gave a brief response and entered.

“Shall I help you?”

Velita removed her robe, which Elly received naturally.

“No, I just want to sleep a bit more.”

Throwing herself onto the bed lazily, Velita was asked,

“You don’t need anything?”

“No.”

She replied bluntly, as usual. Seeing no request, Elly bowed and said,

“I’ll wait outside, then.”

Whether it was customary for guests to have someone wait outside all day, or Roman’s peculiarity, Velita didn’t know.

Regardless, she simply gestured “okay” with her hand.

Elly left after reminding her to ring the bell if anything was needed.

Velita crawled to the foot of the bed and burrowed into the blankets. Her earlier thoughts returned.

‘There must be something in that kiss… Sylvester really had no idea.’

That was all she knew for now.

“A blank sheet isn’t much different…”

Velita couldn’t help but chuckle.

She had resolved to forget the past, renounce wealth, fame, and life as a demon, and live normally.

Yet now she found herself curious, puzzles to solve… even curious about Kesis’s end.

She felt slightly ridiculous. Her throat was dry.

She grabbed the water bottle beside her.

Even though she wanted to escape Kesis’s illusions, she felt she hadn’t at all.

The droplets on the clear glass looked like rain in a dream.

Ignoring the fleeting images at the back of her mind, she drank. Thankfully, no foul dream-like smell lingered.

Setting the glass down, she made a decision.

Yes, first, she needed to find a painter.

Roman might be picky, but ideally, someone like Kesis or Sylvester.

And if nothing happened through them, she would calculate the value of allowing the portrait and make a request to Roman.

To have him look into Sylvester’s origins.