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Chapter 12
“Pardon?”
Betty was startled. Of all people, she understood better than anyone what this meant to Eila.
Betty. When it’s time for you to marry, I’ll ask my mother to introduce you to a good man.
No. I’m going to stay by your side forever, miss.
You might feel differently when the time comes.
No. Please believe me. I understand why you take on painting commissions.
You understand?
Yes… Even if you marry or don’t marry, I still want to stay by your side and serve you. If I can be of help.
You already are. Without your help, I wouldn’t manage on my own. Thank you, Betty. Still, if a good person appears, don’t push them away on purpose. You don’t have to be a lifelong non-marriage advocate. Alright?
Yes, miss.
She remembered the warm smile as she held her rough hands, expressing gratitude.
“Why… why are you saying this? You liked this work, didn’t you?”
Eila gave a faint smile. Her expression looked especially weak today.
“There are no secrets in this world. If something can no longer remain a secret, it’s better to stop before it’s exposed.”
“Did you get caught?”
“No… it’s not that…”
Eila briefly explained the circumstances to Betty. After listening, Betty looked utterly dazed.
“That’s awful. How could they blackmail you over something like that…”
Seeing Betty tear up, Eila couldn’t say anything.
After that, Betty didn’t openly curse—but she expressed all the anger Eila felt so precisely that it was almost relieving. Having someone speak on her behalf made her feel unexpectedly supported.
“So you haven’t been able to sleep properly for days?”
“Not exactly… just a lot of things.”
“You’ve gotten tired. Your skin’s gotten rough too. I’ll prepare a facial mask for you after dinner.”
“Thank you, Betty.”
Eila smiled gently.
“Are you sketching?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
Betty asked hesitantly. Eila nodded lightly.
“Of course. Check which pose looks best.”
“Yes.”
Betty carefully turned page after page of the notebook. Eila also looked at her own drawings.
They couldn’t capture the prince’s unreal visual perfection, but for rough sketches, they were fairly satisfactory.
“What does the prince’s admirer think?”
Betty thought for a moment, then spoke.
“This one.”
She pointed to the first sketch—Franz sitting deep in a chair, legs crossed.
“The other poses are also good, but… this one feels most like the prince. Elegant and beautiful, but also a bit arrogant…”
“Oh. As expected, Betty. I drew it without thinking, just trying to capture what felt most like the prince. But I don’t think I can use it for the commissioned portrait.”
Even to Eila, the first sketch felt the most “Prince Franz-like.” But it wasn’t appropriate as an official portrait of His Highness Prince Franz Princenton.
Reconsidering, she studied the second and third sketches again, then pointed to the third.
“What about this one?”
It showed the prince standing with his weight on one leg, left hand on his waist, right hand resting on a ceremonial sword.
Just as casual as the first pose, but the sharp silhouette in his ornate uniform was strikingly attractive.
“You don’t even need to ask. But why are all the eyes missing?”
“I can’t draw them.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never seen them. I can’t draw eyes from imagination.”
“W-what?”
Betty’s eyes widened in shock.
“You don’t see the prince at the academy? My friend Nancy—remember? She serves the Noily viscount’s daughter.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“She says her lady often sees the prince at social parties. Even if you don’t attend those events, she sees him every day at the academy. She hears nonstop about his eyes, his smile, his posture… it’s always Prince Franz this, Prince Franz that.”
“The academy and the university are separate buildings. If they see him every day, they must be going all the way there. That’s hardly proper behavior for a young lady. Besides, I told you—I don’t like Prince Franz. I don’t want to lurk around just to catch a glimpse of him, or pretend to bump into him on purpose.”
“Well, it’s just how people show interest.”
“I’m not trying to get attention.”
“That’s true, but isn’t it enough just to see him once? There are plenty of ladies like that. He wouldn’t even notice them.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Eila let out a heavy sigh. Fatigue lingered in her low voice.
“That’s troublesome. If you’ve never seen him, you can’t draw him…”
While worrying, Betty suddenly clapped her hands.
“Manches Street! There should be portraits of the prince there!”
The moment she heard it, Eila stood up excitedly and clapped.
“Right! Why didn’t I think of that? If I see a portrait, I can draw him without meeting him in person. I’ll go there tomorrow.”
The heaviness that had settled over her finally felt a little lighter.
“You should go down for dinner now.”
“Yes. I think I’ll actually enjoy it today.”
Eila left the room with light steps.
Meanwhile, inside a carriage heading toward the royal palace, Franz—now dressed in a newly prepared suit by Hans—leaned back comfortably with his eyes closed.
Hans spoke as he looked at the blue brooch on his ascot tie, which reflected light like the prince’s eyes.
“These are the documents you asked me to verify.”
Franz slowly opened his eyes and took the papers, scanning them.
They contained detailed information on Lady Clarens and the financial status of the Clarens viscount family.
“The viscount doesn’t seem politically biased, and the young lady herself has no suspicious background. She grew up normally as the eldest daughter, rarely attends social gatherings or balls. According to the household staff, she almost never leaves the estate except for the academy. She likes painting and is apparently quite skilled. She often gives her works as gifts.”
Franz raised his brows slightly, as if hearing of something unfamiliar.
“Her name seems to be Eila Clarens. She even has a trust fund in her name at the bank—about the value of a building. It doesn’t look like a gift; she’s been steadily depositing money over the years.”
“So she doesn’t spend her allowance on appearances, but instead saves it all?”
Franz scoffed lightly as he recalled her appearance.
Just as expected—nothing concerning. Nothing useful. Utterly boring.
“Hm…”
The only mildly interesting detail was her name: Eila Clarens. The same girl who had become the subject of that social club wager.
“She’s considered fairly beautiful if you just look at her face, but she dresses very plainly, and since she rarely attends parties, people tend to underestimate her looks or find her unremarkable.”
“A beauty, supposedly…”
Hans cleared his throat.
“People say she dresses like a nun—so plain it’s almost inappropriate for a dress.”
“Hmm.”
“She has recently started attracting attention from young noblemen, but she rejects all of them. She has never met anyone privately. There was a marriage proposal last autumn, but it fell through when she suddenly fell ill.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. According to the hospital nurse, she had rashes all over her body.”
After reviewing everything, Franz tossed the papers onto the seat beside him.
“That’s it?”
“As you can see.”
“What a boring life.”
Like someone else.
He swallowed the last thought and stared lazily out the window.
“Why would a woman like that watch me? When she doesn’t even like me? Suspicious.”
Eila Clarens seemed to avoid attracting male attention almost obsessively.
“Should we investigate further?”
Franz didn’t answer until the carriage reached the palace. His capable aide simply waited.
There was nothing more to find. Everything would likely remain as dull as this. And yet, for some reason, he hesitated.
He had grown tired of his own life, despite its perfection. And now, for the first time, a completely ordinary woman had sparked meaningless curiosity in him.
It was absurd to think she could become a source of stimulation for someone like him—but he had no better alternative.
After a long silence, Franz finally spoke.
“Keep looking. There must be more.”
Even if there wasn’t, it didn’t matter. It was better to eliminate risks in advance.
Normally, he wouldn’t spare such a woman a second thought—but he was bored out of his mind.
“This is getting interesting. Eila Clarens. Entertain me.”
As he stared out the window, a faint light flickered in his eyes.
Hans waited quietly until the carriage stopped.
“Your Highness, we’ve arrived.”
Just moments ago, he had been slouched casually with a leg crossed, but the moment Franz stepped out of the carriage, he became a flawless gentleman.
The boredom and laziness vanished. Franz Princenton was now, once again, the picture of refined nobility.
