Odalisque - Chapter 16

“This is the handkerchief you lent me before.”

The neatly folded handkerchief carried a different scent compared to when he had given it to her. The unfamiliar smell of soap was especially strong. Dimus glanced at the handkerchief with just his eyes before leaning back into the chair.

“And regarding the extra work you proposed, I’d like to hear more details.”

“I can’t tell you unless you promise to do it.”

“But…”

“I have no intention of involving unrelated people.”

The fact that he required a commitment before disclosing the details suggested the job wasn’t exactly aboveboard. Liv immediately grasped the meaning behind his words and fell silent, her expression stiffening.

Dimus leisurely observed her face as he crossed his long legs. Typically, he despised wasting time, but he decided to give Liv ample time to consider.

In fact, all of his recent behavior toward Liv had been exceptional. Did she truly deserve such attention?

Dimus pulled out a cigar, lost in thought for a moment. Value… To be honest, he had yet to find any true value in her. So far, she had nothing more than the allure of curiosity.

It had all started with a painting. A very poorly made painting.

It wasn’t the rough brushstrokes or the garish colors that had caught Dimus’s eye. It was the awkwardly posed woman depicted in the piece.

The clumsy posture showed lingering traces of shame, while the well-formed body looked as thin as a neglected horse. The naked back, exposed in the painting, conveyed her sense of despair.

So, Dimus didn’t buy Brad’s painting because the artist had done a great job. Rather, the painting itself held nothing of the artist’s intention—only the overwhelming presence of the model.

It was a refreshingly unique experience. Having seen and collected countless nude paintings, this one stood out for its utter incompetence. The painter wasn’t even trying to create art; he merely transferred what he saw in front of him onto the canvas. Or perhaps the model’s intense aura had so thoroughly dominated the artist’s subconscious that it made him paint as he did.

This artist would never make a proper debut—he simply lacked the talent. Of course, that didn’t mean the model was remarkable, either.

The model, in fact, was so terrible that calling her a model felt like an overstatement. And what emerged from this disastrous pairing was the painting before him.

It was a mess—like something dragged through the mud. And that made it interesting.

Could it have been mere luck?

That curiosity led Dimus to purchase Brad’s second nude painting. It also depicted a back view, just as the first one had, and the pose was equally stiff.

Even a log would have looked more natural than that. Any maid from his mansion, if made to pose, would appear more graceful than this.

Yet despite such thoughts, Dimus couldn’t look away from the painting. The third one was the same.

It made him wonder. Why were they all back views?

What expression would a woman with such a back have on her face?

So, he casually dropped a suggestion: draw her face next time. He hadn’t expected Brad to panic at the mere thought of sketching a partial profile.

Liv seemed to believe that if she could retrieve and destroy the painting with her face, all her troubles would be over. But was that really true?

If she thought she could resolve everything neatly like that, she was beyond naive—she was foolish.

“I’ll do it.”

Dimus, lost in thought, came back to the present. With a habitual gesture, he bit down on his cigar and looked at the person sitting before him.

“I’ll take the extra work.”

Her demeanor was that of a soldier heading into battle. Whatever she imagined he would make her do, it clearly terrified her—her face was ashen. Dimus sneered coldly at Liv’s visibly tense shoulders.

She probably believed she would have to sacrifice something of great value. Whatever she considered valuable, to Dimus, it was as insignificant as a pebble on the roadside.

“There’s no need to be so afraid. It won’t be difficult for you.”

Liv looked up, her gaze trembling. She seemed ready to say something, but at that moment, a servant arrived, quietly pushing a tea trolley.

The well-trained servant made almost no noise as he set up the tea. Only one teacup was placed on the table.

Liv’s face flushed when she noticed there wasn’t one for her. Perhaps she felt humiliated.

Dimus, indifferent, spoke in a detached manner, “When you leave, a servant will be waiting for you. Follow him for further instructions and to sign the contract.”

Liv, who had been clutching her skirt tightly, slowly rose to her feet.

“I’ll be going, then.”

“I look forward to working with you, Teacher.”

Through the haze of cigar smoke, Dimus could feel her gaze. She responded in a low voice, “Yes,” then quickly turned and left.

After she left, the servant who had finished preparing the tea noticed the handkerchief on the table.

“Shall I send this to the laundry?”

Dimus, exhaling smoke and staring at the closed door, turned his head.

Laundry? He hadn’t considered that. Without even glancing at the handkerchief, he gave a disinterested order, “Throw it away.”

The servant bowed and took the handkerchief. The faint scent of cheap soap lingered where the handkerchief had been, gradually dissipating.

The drawing room grew quiet, with only the smoke from the cigar lingering in the air. Dimus, lounging on the sofa, reached out for the teacup but then paused.

He glanced at his long, gloved fingers, frowning slightly. As if dissatisfied, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together thoughtfully before standing.

Leaving the untouched tea behind, Dimus strode out of the drawing room.

“Where is she?”

“She is signing the contract.”

“Bring her to me when she’s done.”

His stomach churned. Unfortunately, there was nothing in this hastily prepared mansion to soothe his nausea.

“Have her start today.”

He was curious to see what effect this inadequate model might have.

***

The Marquis hadn’t lied.

Every detail written in the contract presented by the man claiming to be the Marquis’s aide was exactly as the Marquis had described. As promised, the hourly wage was exceptionally high, and the work wasn’t as intimidating as she’d feared.

“So, Mr. Adolf, is this really all I need to do… for this much money?”

The extra work that the Marquis required from Liv was simple enough. She just had to spend more time with him while undressed.

There wasn’t anything specific she had to do; she merely needed to stay in the same room as him. The contract clearly stated that she wouldn’t be harmed, nor would she be asked to do anything life-threatening.

“Of course, Teacher Rodaise.”

Liv’s cheeks flushed. Hearing the title “Teacher” from Adolf’s well-mannered tone made her feel embarrassed. Was it because she wasn’t here to teach anyone, or because she felt like she was secretly engaging in something improper while also working as a tutor?

Probably the latter.

“I don’t think the title ‘Teacher’ is appropriate.”

“Ah, I apologize if it made you uncomfortable. It’s just that the Marquis refers to you that way.”

“…Do you know much about me?”

“Are you asking me? I apologize, but I only know what I’ve been instructed about you, Miss Rodaise.”

It was a very ambiguous statement. Liv tried to make sense of it but couldn’t come up with anything definitive.

After all, she doubted the Marquis would have any interest in investigating her or giving any particular instructions regarding her. To him, she was probably just someone suitable for this strange… extra work.

Liv’s eyes fell on the contract. No matter how many times she reread it, the content remained the same.

“If you sign at the bottom, the contract will be complete. Your salary will be paid in cash on the day of each session, but if you have any specific preference…”

“Cash is fine with me. But I don’t see a term limit for the contract.”

“Ah, that part…”

Adolf hesitated briefly before continuing calmly, “It’s until the Marquis no longer requires your services.”

“…So, I have no say in it?”

“Do you need one?”

In other words, the question was whether she even had the right to make such a choice. Adolf noticed that Liv’s face, which had briefly regained some color, turned pale again, and he quickly added an explanation.

“It’s not for me to decide, but I believe this contract is quite advantageous for you, Miss Rodaise. Unless any issues arise, the Marquis intends to keep the contract, and you will be able to earn a stable income easily. If you’re worried about the Marquis changing his mind, there’s no need. Even if you work for just one day, we will ensure you receive ample compensation for your efforts.”

No employer would promise severance pay after just one day of work. For a moment, Liv’s resolve, which had wavered, solidified once more as she thought of the money.

She wasn’t in a position to be choosy. Liv steadied herself as she thought of Corida.