Odalisque - Chapter 134

The bustling talk of the Cardinal’s visit and the scandal involving the great noble families had all become a thing of the past, and Buerno had regained its tranquility.

The rain that had soaked the ground for days finally ceased, giving way to a clear sky and warm sunshine. A cool breeze flowed in through the half-open window. Standing by the window, Dimus took a deep breath. He loosely held a half-burned cigar as his gaze lingered on the scenery outside.

“Marquis.”

Dimus, who had seemed like he would stare endlessly outside, turned at the call.

“Word has come that the item is ready. You can check it whenever you wish. And Curator Aaron has contacted us again, asking for another chance. Shall I cut him off this time?”

Aaron was the curator of Royven, Buerno’s largest art gallery, and once handled all of Dimus’ art dealings. He had also been the one to subtly pass information about Dimus to Camille.

Under normal circumstances, Dimus would have dealt with him promptly, but this time he chose instead to sever all dealings with Aaron and establish new partnerships. Dimus was capable of turning an insignificant shop into an impressive gallery if he chose the right person to nurture.

The art industry in Buerno had grown significantly due to Dimus’ bold and abundant investments. The rapid expansion over the past few years still heavily relied on his support.

Royven, which initially managed to hold on after all transactions were halted, soon realized its limits and bowed down, desperately pleading for another opportunity.

“Do they want to close down the only gallery they have left?”

Charles immediately caught the irritation laced in Dimus’ drowsy tone and responded at once, “I’ll warn them.”

“What about the artists?”

“I’ve compiled a list.”

Charles handed a thick stack of papers to Dimus. It was a report detailing the personal information of various artists.

Dimus passed the cigar he was holding to Charles and took the papers, glancing through them disinterestedly. They were all highly qualified, with one common trait—a specialty in portraiture.

After skimming through the papers, Dimus selected a few names, folding the corners of their pages before handing them back to Charles.

“Let’s visit the gallery first.”

“I’ll have the carriage ready immediately.”

After confirming Charles had left, Dimus turned his head back to the window.

Bright green leaves glittered in the sunlight, and vibrant red roses covered the garden.

Surely she wouldn’t decide not to return.

“I’ll move the item to the exhibit you mentioned,” the gallery curator said nervously, his voice taut with tension. Dimus gave him a perfunctory nod and habitually opened his cigar case. Despite his calm exterior, his thoughts were in turmoil.

The test results should have been released by now.

If he had known this, he would have gone to Adelinde himself.

At the very least, he should have had Adolf verify the results in person and bring her back.

Adolf had returned to Buerno before the results of the Adelinde girls’ school entrance exam were announced. There were other tasks that required his attention, and now that Dimus had also returned, Adolf was needed to assist him. Naturally, Philip accompanied Dimus, and Roman traveled between Adelinde and Buerno for his duties.

Thierry was the only one of Dimus’ aides left in Adelinde.

What if she had changed her mind?

What if this time she was deceiving Thierry to buy time?

“Marquis?”

Charles looked at Dimus in confusion, seeing him lost in thought with an unlit cigar in his hand. Dimus turned around at his questioning gaze. When they had first returned from the capital to Buerno, his state hadn’t been this severe.

Up until now, he had never doubted Thierry. But after Thierry became close to Corida… it became hard to trust him unconditionally. It might be groundless suspicion, but once the thought took hold, it lingered.

He remembered how Corida disapproved of him.

Corida was Liv’s only family. She wasn’t just the most influential person in Liv’s life but also the one who could draw out unpredictable actions.

And what about me?

When Liv had come to the capital to see him, Dimus had felt somewhat assured of her feelings. He had seen Liv Rodaise smile sweetly, initiate kisses, recount old memories, and worry about his nightmares each night.

But now that they were apart, the confidence he had gained in the capital was rapidly fading. The fact that she had chosen to return to Adelinde for her sister’s exam spoke volumes. Knowing how deeply Liv cared for her sister, Dimus couldn’t bring himself to force her to stay.

To be honest, he had been slightly confident he could endure their separation while in the capital. If he had known that his confidence would disappear so quickly, he would have tried harder to evoke Liv’s sympathy.

How important and valuable was he compared to her sister?

‘I was complacent.’

He should have had her sign legally binding documents.

With that thought, Dimus let out a sigh, his lips curling into a crooked frown.

Even if she ran, he could simply bring her back. In the past, he had believed that just confining her physically was enough, but now he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Liv’s indifferent gaze upon him. Her coldness during their time at the Adelinde estate lingered in his memory, constantly fueling his anxiety.

As much as he considered himself foolish, he couldn’t shake off these irrational thoughts. Especially as the roses in the Langess mansion’s garden bloomed more each day.

And today, he had found rose petals scattered across the garden floor. Perhaps it was due to the heavy rains that had fallen for some time, causing the petals to fall prematurely. Seeing the scattered petals had put him in a gloomy mood.

Dimus quickened his pace, leaving the gallery. The thought of the fallen rose petals made him anxious again, and he bit the end of his unlit cigar.

“The artists you selected have been summoned.”

“Let’s go immediately.”

No matter what thoughts occupied his mind, outwardly, he remained the sensitive and difficult Marquis Dietrion. Just as Dimus was about to board the carriage, a servant who had been given separate instructions appeared, his arms full of something.

Charles’s expression shifted subtly as he noticed the servant. Clearing his throat, he directed a question into the open carriage door.

“And, uh… where should we put these items?”

Dimus’s gaze turned to the servant. Narrowing his eyes, he responded in an indifferent tone, “Store them in one of the vacant mansions.”

“Should we refurbish the old studio in the mansion that was previously closed?”

Charles was referring to the place once opened for Brad’s nude painting sessions. Dimus’s face immediately hardened.

“Somewhere else.”

It was a location that Luzia’s followers had discovered. Naturally, he had no intention of using it again.

“Find a smaller place, but make sure it’s secure.”

“Understood.”

Charles nodded resolutely, taking Dimus’s insistence that the location should be hard to notice even on private property seriously. Still, Charles kept glancing at the items the servant was holding, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Regardless of Charles’s reaction, Dimus averted his gaze indifferently. Whether Charles believed it or not, the art supplies the servant had brought were for Dimus’s own use.

And now, he was on his way to choose the teacher who would instruct him in painting.

***

In truth, there was a rational and justifiable reason behind this seemingly outlandish decision.

Dimus had decided to paint more portraits of Liv. However, he couldn’t let an outside artist paint nude portraits of her—a simple portrait, perhaps, but not that.

So, the only solution was to paint her himself.

Even in the midst of his anxiety about whether she would come back, he had reached such an audacious conclusion. Thus, he had ordered his aides to prepare art supplies and a studio and to find him a painting instructor.

The artist before him now was the result of his aides faithfully carrying out those instructions.

“W-well… creating work at this level from the beginning is…”

The artist looked flustered, trailing off after seeing the example Dimus had presented.

“That’s why I’m asking you to teach me.”

“…Have you ever learned to paint before?”

“Of course not.”

But he was a quick learner in anything he pursued, and with the right instructor, he was confident he could improve quickly.

Seeing the determination in Dimus’s eyes, the artist wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, offering an awkward smile. His shoulders, tense from nervousness, began to slump further.

“Well, um, then perhaps we should assess your basic skills first and then discuss how to proceed…”

“Are you suggesting a test?”

Dare you?

The unsaid reprimand was clear enough that the artist’s face turned pale. He seemed on the verge of fainting, struggling to find where to look.

At this rate, it seemed impossible for the artist to teach Dimus—they could barely carry on a conversation.