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chapter 10
“No.”
“Hey, come on. Don’t be so blunt. At least pretend to think about it.”
“I said no.”
“Is it because I’m only a viscount? In terms of wealth, I’m second only to the count’s household!”
Who said it was about money?
Silvester was dumbfounded. He clicked his tongue at Roman for a while, then took a deep breath.
And then, syllable by syllable, he enunciated what he wanted to say:
“I. Said. No.”
This time, Roman’s brow furrowed. He folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently.
“Why not? I told you I’d pay.”
What an annoying man… Silvester shot back without hiding his displeasure.
“What use is some stranger’s portrait to you anyway?”
“Collecting. I have an eye for fine things. Besides, that portrait… wait, now that I think about it, you never even paint portraits, do you? That makes it even rarer.”
“Which makes it even worse.”
“How could it be purer than this? Look at that beauty. Who wouldn’t pay to have—oh.”
Roman stopped mid-sentence, tilting his head.
“More importantly… who exactly is this beauty in the picture? You drew it yourself, didn’t you? But you swore you don’t do portraits.”
“……”
Beauty, he said. Silvester pressed his lips tight. The fact that Roman called Velita beautiful bothered him. Even worse was the hint of interest in his tone.
“Hah…”
Of course Velita was beautiful—anyone with eyes could see that. But the fact that this guy saw her that way grated on Silvester’s nerves even more. His insides boiled.
When Silvester didn’t answer, Hubbil—who had been glancing nervously between them—finally spoke up.
“W-well, I can answer that. This frame is the one I gave him a few months ago. The lady in the picture was what was originally inside.”
“So… you’re saying it’s not Silvester’s work?”
“No! What I gave him back then didn’t look anything like his style. Which means…”
Hubbil shot him a sideways glance, as if to ask: What happened? The colors were different, and the materials weren’t even modern.
Even without words, Silvester could hear the unspoken question loud and clear. He chuckled and replied:
“I painted over it.”
“What?”
“As you said, it was originally Uncle Hubbil’s painting. But I painted over it.”
“But that was… an antique.”
“Hmm…” Roman hummed aloud, sinking into thought.
But what could he do? It was already painted over. So he rationalized it to himself:
Well, no other painter could compare to Silvester’s genius anyway. Unless it was something extraordinary, his work is bound to be more valuable.
“…It must have been a pathetic painting.”
Roman clicked his tongue, trying not to shed invisible tears.
Silvester caught every bit of that self-rationalization. In truth, it wasn’t that he painted over it—the frame had simply absorbed his own painting on its own. But there was no reason to explain all that in detail.
“Anyway, then, Mr. Bookseller, where did you even get this painting?”
Roman tried to change the subject to shake off his grief.
“Well… I received it too. A fisherman found it buried in the sand while out fishing. He gave it to me.”
“And you just put it in a bookshop?”
“It looked too much like an antique. He was afraid to sell it anywhere, so he thought of me and donated it.”
Since it didn’t seem to have an owner, I passed it on to this lad… Hubbil finished with a nod toward Silvester.
Silvester, still wary, continued:
“Anyway, I’m not selling it.”
Roman’s gaze, dripping with longing, remained fixed on the portrait. Silvester didn’t like that gaze one bit. Hubbil had already answered so much, and now it just seemed to be fueling Roman’s collector’s desire.
This was starting to feel unpleasant. Silvester stepped in front of the portrait to block his view, but Roman kept craning his neck, stubbornly trying to see.
“…Even if I offered you a hundred million gold? You really won’t sell?”
“No.”
“Then what about two hundred million?”
Persistent bastard. And with his noble status, Silvester couldn’t exactly tell him off outright. He scratched the back of his head.
And what am I supposed to say?
That just like him, I fell in love at first sight? That the real person who looks exactly like this portrait walked right out of it—and now lives here?
“……”
No good excuse came to mind. Silvester threw a cloth over the painting entirely.
“I just don’t want to sell it. Stop asking. This portrait is absolutely off-limits.”
“Come on, you don’t even have a reason. Off-limits? Really?”
Roman opened his mouth to press further.
God, what a nuisance. Silvester quickly cut him off, trying to redirect the conversation to Roman’s original request.
“If you really like my art so much, I’ll paint your mansion instead.”
Roman’s face lit up.
“Really? Finally, some sense! All right, since you’re compromising, I’ll do the same!”
But even Silvester’s concession couldn’t quench Roman’s obsession.
“I’ll pass on that portrait. But you’ll paint me the same woman anew. How about it? Of course, I’ll pay separately for both works.”
What?
The issue wasn’t the price. Silvester’s temper finally boiled over.
Why does he insist on Velita’s face so much? What does she even mean to him? I already agreed to paint his mansion. Isn’t that enough?
“…Listen.”
Silvester was about to snap when—
“I said I don’t want to.”
A voice that should’ve been in the storage room rang out.
“Velita.”
Silvester jumped instinctively, rushing forward to shield her dazzling beauty from the annoying viscount’s gaze.
“What the—?”
But Velita, oblivious to his concern, slipped past him like a cat under his arm.
Silvester’s empty hands twitched.
Roman, on the other hand, saw the living embodiment of the portrait and his jaw dropped.
“What… what in the world…”
An otherworldly beauty no human could possess.
“….”
Silvester was certain Roman was now feeling the same thing he had the first day he saw Velita. It only made him more unsettled.
“You said you’re a viscount? Well, as you can see, he painted that for me.”
Velita pulled Silvester’s arm close and embraced him. The unexpected touch soothed his boiling insides a little.
“Looks like you came to commission work. How about we stop talking about me and get serious about business?”
I came out because it was getting too embarrassing to listen. Velita whispered and then walked toward the table.
With his unexpected entrance, silence fell. Calmly, he pulled out a chair and sat, resting his chin on his hand, tapping the table with a nail.
“Go on.”
He even wiggled his foot impishly.
Ah…
How could someone be so perfectly charming?
Silvester gazed at Velita, whose natural grace and effortless charisma always drew people in. He looked regal by birth—yet at the same time, Silvester felt an absurd urge to bite his cheek.
Of course, Velita would probably faint if he ever said that out loud.
“…You called it an antique, but it’s just a portrait of a real person.”
Roman finally managed a sentence. Silvester’s ears perked up. He stepped beside Velita like a guard dog. I don’t like the way this guy’s reacting.
“What exactly is your relationship? You swore you don’t paint people. You said it was a copy, and now this…”
Silvester’s eyes sharpened. His tone when talking to Velita was completely different from when addressing him. Was he trying to flirt?
Oh, I see how it is. To me, you play the high-and-mighty noble who never bends a word. But suddenly, you’ve decided to act like a gentleman? Pretending to be all refined, huh?
Silvester glared at him, practically growling.
Ah.
And right then, the chill in the air deepened. Velita glanced up at Silvester, then at Hubbil and Roman.
Everyone’s eyes turned to him, waiting for him to clarify his relationship with Silvester.
“…Ha.”
Velita let out a dry laugh, lips curving faintly. Then he gave them the answer they wanted so badly.
“He’s my lover.”
What?
The room fell silent.
Lover? Roman and Hubbil were struck dumb with shock. Velita only stared back at them, as if to say, What, why?
Their jaws worked like nutcrackers, stammering back to life.
“What?!”
“That’s ridiculous!!”
Velita lazily covered his ears. Honestly, this shabby house will collapse at this rate. Why so shocked…
“Is that true, my lady?”
“What would I gain by lying?”
“But still… how could someone like Silvester possibly—someone like you…”
“We live together. I’ve been staying here for a while now.”
“……”
“…But Silvester never mentioned it…”
The middle-aged man mumbled nervously. Velita glanced at him.
Ah, this must be the bookseller who got the portrait from the fisherman.
How should he respond? If this man was close enough to hand over something that looked so valuable, he had to be a trusted friend of Silvester’s. And if he brought a nobleman here, he probably visited often.
Hmm.
Velita’s eyes slid to Roman’s shoes instead of answering.
“……”
With everyone’s gaze fixed squarely on him, the silence grew heavier.
Velita wasn’t trying to be dramatic—he was simply choosing his words carefully. But the delay only fueled their imaginations.
Finally, he blinked slowly.
The truth was, Velita hadn’t listened to Silvester’s request.
Of course, Silvester had tried to hide him from the visiting noble, knowing how troublesome such matters could be. And if Roman really had come for some headache-inducing reason, Velita’s presence would hardly help.
And besides, I’m tired of getting dragged into annoying affairs.
But Velita had a duty as a demon bound by contract to at least observe the conversation. It was part of granting Silvester’s wish.
Through it, he could glean things about this society’s hierarchy, their purpose here, and Silvester’s relationships.
Since he had decided to live in this world, he needed to know what kind of place it was, why Silvester had wished to be happy, and how he lived.
“……”
And along with that—just how unhappy Silvester thought himself to be.
