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Chapter 24
Deus sat at the dining table with a rare sense of freshness.
Meals he had barely touched for days now suited his appetite quite well.
Unlike the past few days, his noticeably softened mood made the servants quietly sigh in relief.
Even if no one said it aloud, everyone in the manor had felt that something was wrong.
Deus absentmindedly ate his salad, then paused when he noticed a bright red fruit mixed inside.
Just seeing red made him think of Rosalyn.
At this point, it was almost a chronic condition.
Especially since after meeting her again, he hadn’t even seen a single strand of her signature red hair.
They said the letter was delivered safely… so I should be able to see her today.
But what did it matter?
All that mattered to him was the fact that he would be able to meet Rosalyn.
Emma had visited him the night before and told him Rosalyn would come within two days.
Yesterday had passed quietly—so today was the only remaining day.
The certainty of their meeting made his lips curl up unconsciously.
But Deus made no effort to hide the smile that formed against his will.
He simply allowed himself to enjoy the anticipation.
“Your Grace. Pardon the intrusion.”
A sudden voice interrupted his peaceful morning.
It was the head butler, Colin.
The smile disappeared from Deus’s face instantly.
Colin cautiously parted the drapes and entered, visibly tense.
“I am sorry to disturb your meal, but a visitor insists on seeing Your Grace first thing this morning…”
At the word visitor, Deus stood up before Colin could finish.
“Y-Your Grace?”
Colin’s eyes widened.
But Deus had already moved past him without hearing the full explanation.
It was shocking.
Normally, Deus would delay even scheduled visitors out of sheer annoyance.
Colin stood frozen for a moment, then looked back at the untouched breakfast.
Steam still rose gently from the stew.
With a bewildered sound, he hurried after Deus.
Deus practically rushed toward the reception room.
His heart pounded with anticipation and excitement, as if it might burst.
But as always—expectations and reality were different things.
The moment he entered the room, Deus’s expression turned cold.
No red hair.
No black garments.
Only a thin, frail-looking man stood there.
Annoyance surged instantly.
“Who are you?”
His voice came out sharp without hesitation.
The man, finally noticing Deus, quickly turned and bowed deeply.
“Y-Your Grace. Um, p-please look at the recommendation letter first…”
Trembling hands reached into his sleeve.
He pulled out a black envelope.
Already, Deus disliked it.
He tore it open carelessly.
To the beloved little bird.
Congratulations on becoming the new master of the cage.
Evan is an artist with excellent craftsmanship.
Please find appropriate use for his talents.
Deus crushed the letter in his hand.
“Beloved… how ridiculous.”
The tone irritated him for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.
He had no intention of ever returning to that auction house.
Once in a lifetime was more than enough for such an unpleasant experience.
Deus calmed his breathing and studied the man in front of him.
The hunched shoulders, the jutting neck, the unnaturally pale skin that looked like it had never seen sunlight, and the dark shadows under his eyes.
He had an unsettling presence.
“You’re Evan?”
“Yes, Y-yes, Your Grace.”
The man flinched and bowed even lower.
Deus observed him with mild curiosity.
He seemed like someone who didn’t fully belong in this world.
At the auction house, he had assumed it was just the atmosphere.
But seeing him now, the man himself felt… strange.
Just as Emma had described.
“So the letter says you’re a skilled painter. I’ve never heard your name.”
The words sounded polite, but there was a hidden edge beneath them.
Evan immediately bowed again.
“I-I’m still inexperienced… I don’t have any notable works yet, but I will do my best if you give me a chance, Your Grace…”
“Do you have any skills other than painting?”
Deus cut him off sharply.
Evan cautiously lifted his eyes.
His gaze darted around, searching for an answer.
“People with talent usually have more than one skill.”
Deus smiled faintly.
But the smile only increased the pressure.
Evan’s already pale face turned ghostly white.
Before he could answer, Colin shot him a piercing glare from the side.
Answer properly—or else.
Evan swallowed hard.
“I… I don’t think I have any talent other than painting. I’m sorry.”
His voice was so sincere it was almost convincing.
Deus almost laughed inwardly.
A remarkable performer, in a way.
Because he knew Evan’s ability wasn’t limited to simple painting.
Unless one considered magical circles “art.”
“Then let’s see your skills.”
“Yes, y-yes sir.”
Evan quickly opened his bag.
Inside were surprisingly well-organized painting tools.
He began assembling the easel with practiced hands.
Not the movements of a beginner.
Deus observed him with interest.
He gestured lightly to Colin.
Colin bowed immediately.
“Tell Emma to prepare tea.”
“Emma, sir? I could just—”
“She makes the best rose mint tea.”
“I understand.”
Colin withdrew.
Once the door closed, leaving only the two of them, Deus spoke calmly.
“How long have you been painting?”
“Not… not very long,” Evan replied quickly, struggling with the easel.
His thin arms trembled under the weight.
“And before that?”
“I… I just did odd jobs to survive. Haha…”
A nervous laugh followed.
He was clearly trying to hide his past.
Evan forced a harmless smile.
But Deus’s eyes were fixed on his shaking hands.
“Odd jobs, huh? Must’ve been difficult.”
“N-no, not really… well… maybe it was… yes…”
Evan stumbled over his words.
Deus slowly raised his gaze to meet his.
The moment their eyes met, Evan froze.
It felt as if everything he tried to hide was being exposed under that blue gaze.
Evan instinctively stepped back.
Deus did not stop him.
Instead, he asked the question he had been circling around.
“How difficult was it… for you to turn to black magic?”
CRASH.
The easel collapsed.
Evan turned pale as he stared at Deus.
So shocked he couldn’t even deny it.
Deus, however, remained calm.
“I don’t need a portrait. I need a magical tool.”
Evan gasped repeatedly.
His entire body trembled violently.
Finally, in a strained voice, he muttered,
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a painter… nothing more, Your Grace.”
The desperate lie was painfully obvious even to himself.
Evan lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
