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Chapter 03
After returning to the mansion, Ela set up her easel by the window in her bedroom.
During her time in the capital—attending the academy and making her social debut—Ela had been staying at her aunt, Lady Berni Linton’s estate.
Her family home in Centor was three hours away by train, where she had a separate private studio. But here, she usually painted in a space arranged in one corner of the lady’s reception room.
Of course, that space was used for official works and commissioned pieces, while unofficial paintings were created secretly in her bedroom.
By the bedroom window stood an easel and canvas. Next to it was a trolley filled with oil paints, watercolor paints, and brushes—almost like a small atelier.
Ela loved these moments in front of her easel. The rich scent of paint, brushes worn by use, oil containers, and the easel itself felt almost comforting. But now, the thought that she might no longer be able to enjoy the work she loved drained her motivation.
“Let’s set the penalty fee at 2,000 dena. It’s a big risk for me as well, but if you ultimately refuse, I’ll be very disappointed. That money won’t comfort me, but I hope you don’t bring me sorrow.”
The voice echoed in her ears, tormenting her. No matter how she reconsidered it, it was nothing short of extortion—just without a knife involved.
Her thoughts about Allen Giverman’s commission filled her mind completely, and she could not focus on painting. An entire hour had already passed.
Seeing Ela unusually unproductive, Betty tilted her head in concern.
“Miss, did something happen at the academy?”
“Hmm? What?” Ela blinked blankly before responding late.
“You’re staring at the canvas and spacing out. It’s unusual. Did something happen at the academy?”
“Ah… no, nothing like that.”
Ela sighed lightly and shook her head. Betty looked at her worriedly.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Probably not.”
Ela murmured softly and let out another deep sigh before gripping her brush again. She felt unsettled, but what was done was done.
However—
“I want to become the mistress of the Grenville Palace.”
That voice echoed again in her ears, and she finally slammed her brush down.
At the time, she had brushed it off, but thinking about it now, it was absurd.
‘Allen Giverman… the princess consort?’
“Hah! If that ever happens, I’ll… I’ll roast goat dung with my own hands!”
Ela scoffed loudly.
“Pardon?” Betty looked at her.
Right. Betty was still here.
Ela quickly adjusted her expression and smiled gently, as if nothing had happened. She didn’t want to worry her.
“Betty.”
“Yes, miss.”
“You… you know Prince Princeton, right?”
“Prince Franz? Of course I do!”
Betty’s eyes sparkled instantly, as if stars had been placed inside them.
“He’s the finest masterpiece of Lapland, the lover of all, the prince of everyone. My friends back home were so jealous when I came to the capital with you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I might get to see him at least once while in the capital! Well… even though I’ve never actually seen him.”
Betty sighed dreamily.
Ela thought, How exaggerated.
She couldn’t exactly deny it, since the entire city’s women were obsessed with “Franz Princeton,” practically feverish over him.
“So, that’s his name. I must have forgotten for a moment.”
“Miss, may I ask—do you know the names of His Majesty the King, Her Majesty the Queen, and the Crown Prince?”
“I do.”
King Hendrick, Queen Elizabeth, Crown Prince Frederick. Ela listed them without hesitation.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know the prince’s name. It was more that she had unconsciously decided it wasn’t worth remembering, and so it had slipped away.
In any case, he was royalty—and the most popular man in high society.
“Just as I thought. They’re all royals, so why do you always treat Prince Franz differently?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re kind to the servants, even generous to street children—but whenever Prince Franz comes up, you always look displeased.”
Ela was slightly surprised that her feelings were that obvious.
Still, wasn’t it true? She believed she was right.
“Everyone in Lapland adores him, so why don’t you?”
“Because he doesn’t act like royalty.”
At Betty’s question, Ela answered without hesitation.
“A royal should have dignity. But the prince… honestly, his reputation is questionable.”
The moment she said it, she felt even saying it made her sound less refined. Ela shrugged as if to say, You know what I mean, Betty.
Betty was offended but couldn’t argue. It was true.
Franz Princeton—the so-called masterpiece of the century, the lover of all, the prince adored by everyone. He was also called the “Ice Prince” for his cold demeanor.
Everything he wore—his suits, shoes, hats, walking canes—became objects of intense public interest. He was a sell-out phenomenon; anything he used either became impossible to buy or far too expensive.
Even Ela, who was indifferent to most social matters, couldn’t avoid hearing about him everywhere.
His life was constantly discussed. He was seen at clubs, rumored to have been with opera actresses late at night, and stories circulated about him changing lovers frequently, regardless of status.
Rumors claimed the women who stayed in his hotel room could be heard loudly through the halls, and that his supposed “skills” were so extraordinary that no other man could satisfy a woman afterward. Of course, none of it was verified.
And then there were headlines like:
“Franz Princeton, the romantic of the century, rents out an entire restaurant for Agnes!”
Agnes was a rising opera soprano. Just reading the headline made Ela shake her head at his extravagant scandals.
Even when she tried not to look, she inevitably saw them while reading the paper.
At some point, checking what ridiculous story about the prince appeared each morning had become part of her routine—though she only read the headlines and turned the page.
Because of this, the academy girls were once again in turmoil.
At the tea house Ela visited with Loran after lunch, noble ladies were gathered in groups, chatting over tea.
‘Hasn’t it already been three months with Agnes?’
‘The prince never meets the same woman twice, right?’
‘What is this? It’s so annoying! Could he be planning to make her his mistress?’
‘Impossible!’
‘Even for a free-spirited prince, he wouldn’t make a low-born singer a princess—but even a mistress role is too good for someone like her.’
The chatter went on endlessly. Ela didn’t remember much of what followed. She simply tuned it out.
“Betty, could you bring today’s newspaper?”
“But you already read it this morning, miss.”
“I need to check something again.”
“It should be in the reception room. Please wait a moment.”
Betty rushed out and soon returned holding a folded newspaper.
“Here you are, miss.”
“Thank you, Betty. You’ve worked hard today. Go rest now.”
As always, Ela smiled gently as Betty bowed and left.
Once alone, Ela unfolded the newspaper and looked at the front page.
A distant black-and-white photo showed Prince Franz. Even though his face was tiny, his features were unmistakably sharp.
If even a photo looked like this, how extraordinary must the real person be?
Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Ela acknowledged that Prince Franz was undeniably handsome.
