TPES 34

Chapter 34

“This piece is believed to be an early work painted even earlier than Melczarski’s well-known Morning Greeting. It dates back to a period when Melczarski was experimenting with color combinations, using hues he rarely employed. It appears to be a work that was never revealed to the world.”

At the viscount’s words, the crowd murmured in admiration. None of them seemed to suspect that the painting had been completed just yesterday.

“It’s a piece that uses a color palette rarely seen in Melczarski’s works, and it vividly captures his inner conflict over his identity and his life as an artist. With that, we will begin the auction.”

At his announcement, hands shot up rapidly—much faster than at the previous auction.

“Already 200,000. Is there 210,000?”

Once the price passed 200,000, the previously busy hands came to a halt.

It seemed that anything above 200,000 was too much for them.

With hands this small…

He couldn’t sell the painting for less than at the last auction. As prices rose higher and higher, people tended to spend even more money.

Viscount Monzas sent a glance to the shills planted among the crowd. Just as they were about to move—

“300,000.”

A delicate voice called out an astonishing amount.

“300,000?”

The room stirred. Three hundred thousand Ritas for a single painting—an amount rivaling the highest prices on the current art market.

Viscount Monzas searched for the owner of that voice. The masked lady lightly waving her hand was the same woman he had seen earlier when checking invitations.

Espin of House Leon, introduced by the Duchess of Ameron.

House Leon was certainly wealthy enough to pay such a sum.

“300,000. Any higher? Then, sold—for 300,000.”

Viscount Monzas struck the gavel three times. It was a very satisfying price.

“Then, I will escort the winning bidder to a room to finalize the contract. That concludes today’s auction.”

“Are there no other paintings?”

As he wrapped up, people looked around and voiced their regret.

Watching them—people who had no intention of paying more than 200,000 yet still coveted the painting—the viscount cut them off decisively. They were worthless.

“I’m sorry. That was the last painting prepared for today.”

“Then when is the next auction?”

“Ah, I can’t give you a definite answer. There are only a few paintings left to auction. This may even be the last one.”

After stoking their anxiety one last time, the viscount headed to the contract room. Inside, Espin—wearing an innocent, unknowing expression—was leisurely looking around, lightly tapping her foot.

“You are Lady Espin of House Leon, correct?”

“Yes. I came at the introduction of the Duchess of Ameron.”

“My lady, you’ve made an excellent choice. In fact, this is my favorite piece. I’m certain its value will more than double in ten years.”

It was something he always said. He had said the same to the Duchess of Ameron, and to the marchioness who had won the previous painting.

This forgery would be worth next to nothing in ten years—no, perhaps even in ten months—but he said it to prevent buyers from canceling.

A blatant lie, yet he felt no pang of conscience.

“May I read the contract?”

“Of course.”

The contract the viscount prepared was a standard one commonly used in the Empire.

Scammers often altered contracts in subtle ways, but such tricks only worked on commoners. Nobles familiar with contracts would quickly notice any strange clauses.

This contract will be enough.

By the time they realized something was wrong, he would already have fled to the Kingdom of Bornor and changed his identity. It was best not to invite unnecessary suspicion.

“Here it says, ‘If any issue arises concerning the ownership of this painting, the seller, Viscount Monzas, shall take responsibility and provide compensation. The compensation amount shall be five times the contract price.’”

“That’s correct. It means I’m that confident.”

“Do you happen to have collateral worth five times the contract amount?”

No, he didn’t. The family’s assets were already outweighed by its debts.

There was the money he had scraped together by selling off whatever could be liquidated, plus the proceeds from selling paintings—but even then, it amounted to only 500,000 Ritas. Far short of the 1.5 million Ritas that was five times the 300,000 contract price.

“My lady, why do you ask?”

“My father told me to be careful with contracts.”

The viscount examined Espin.

An utterly innocent face. She must have come on behalf of the count at his instruction.

Otherwise, there was no way a young lady could personally pay such a large sum.

“Ah, so the count asked you to check. Yes, that’s possible.”

The viscount headed to the vault. Attached to the interior of the mansion, it was difficult to remove its contents. Inside were stacks of cash from liquidated family assets, the proceeds from the previous auction, and several pieces of jewelry.

It felt uncomfortable to show his wealth to someone, but soon all of it would be moved abroad anyway.

“As stated in the contract, this cash and the family’s assets are being put up as collateral.”

“I see. Oh, and this painting is genuine, right? It was definitely painted by Melczarski?”

“Of course. It’s a genuine piece identified through very precise techniques.”

“Then could you add one more clause? That if the painting turns out not to be genuine, you’ll still pay five times the contract amount.”

At Espin’s words, Viscount Monzas frowned, unable to hide his irritation.

“You’re quite suspicious, my lady.”

It was absurd for someone who knew nothing about art to dare question authenticity in front of him.

“Better safe than sorry. Are you perhaps not confident it’s genuine?”

“Not at all.”

In any case, there was no one in the Empire who could definitively prove whether the painting was truly by Melczarski. There was no proof it was genuine—but no proof it was a forgery either.

The viscount was confident. He immediately added a special clause about forgeries beneath the contract.

What did a few extra lines of text matter? What mattered was that the money would be in his pocket.

“Then the payment—”

“I brought it.”

Not long after, the door opened and a man carrying a large bag entered the room.

“Here.”

When he thumped the heavy bag onto the table, Espin immediately opened it and presented it to the viscount.

It contained a full 300,000 Ritas.

That vain young lady was handing over an enormous sum without even knowing whether the painting was a forgery.

“Yes, I’ve confirmed it. The painting is now yours, my lady.”

“Oh, but I’m paying now—could I pick up the painting in a few days?”

“In a few days?”

“Yes. I’ll decide where to display it first, then come get it.”

There was no downside for the viscount, so he nodded readily.

“Very well.”

“However… since it’s quite expensive, I’m a bit uneasy leaving it here. Would it be all right if one of our people stayed to guard the painting?”

Espin pointed to the man who had brought the money.

He looked annoyed. Though he had a fierce appearance, he seemed utterly unmotivated to guard a painting.

Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, the viscount readily agreed.

“Go ahead.”

To think they would entrust a 300,000-Ritas painting to just one person.

That young lady of House Leon is quite the fool.

Viscount Monzas inwardly vowed that he would never raise his own daughter to be that foolish.