Odalisque - Chapter 48

“You are…”

The priest simply stared at the man without reciting scripture or weeping in lamentation like the others. Kneeling on one knee to meet the man’s gaze, the priest observed him for a long time before turning his eyes toward the man’s mother. The priest’s clean, white hand gently caressed the cheek of the mother, which had turned dark and pale in death.

“Why make such a choice?”

The priest’s murmuring, almost as if speaking to himself, was vague. Yet the man somehow felt he understood the implied meaning. It was as if the priest had realized something by looking at him, without needing to say it aloud.

The man’s mother had not been praying to God. She had been waiting—for the person standing before him.

She had faced her death, fully confident that she would finally meet the person she had been waiting for, hence the peaceful expression on her face.

The priest belatedly offered a prayer for the mother’s repose before extending his hand to the man. Since it was common for priests to take care of war orphans, no one found it unusual. It appeared that the priest had quite a favorable position within the church, as he provided reasonable support for the man.

The war raged on in various regions, even at that moment, and for someone from an unstable background, the fastest way to succeed was to take up arms.

Fortunately, the man was quite capable. From almost eking out a living as the son of a rural peasant, he managed to enroll in the military academy.

“The death that pervades this land shall be your salvation.”

Upon seeing the acceptance letter, the priest spoke those words.

“If this is your fate, do your best. Rewards befitting a shining position will surely follow. It is beyond doubt that God has entrusted you to me.”

On that day, the man learned just how ambitious the priest’s aspirations were—and why he had not appeared before his mother until that moment.

The man, who had inherited his mother’s extraordinary beauty, realized that his essence was much closer to his father’s.

***

The painting work was temporarily suspended.

On the surface, it was due to the painter’s health. The painter, known as Brad, sighed in relief when the Marquis readily accepted his flimsy excuse. It seemed he genuinely believed that he was held in deep trust.

Dimus could tell that Brad, whose shallow nature he had recognized immediately, was truly a mess if he felt relieved in a situation that would have otherwise aroused some suspicion.

After all, it must have been quite a fire lit under him.

Dimus threw the report detailing Brad’s activities onto the desk.

“Foolish indeed.”

His aide, Charles, who had submitted the report, spoke in a worried tone, “He might run off in the middle of the night before the contract expires.”

“Let him. Saves us the trouble of getting involved.”

Dimus had many people like Brad around him—people who, after just a meeting or two, acted as if they were very close to him.

Usually, what such people desired was quite similar.

Dimus’s wealth, his appearance, or the impressive aura and connections he seemed to have.

Brad was the same. On the day Dimus first met him, it wasn’t difficult to figure him out.

Honestly, it wasn’t even something worth worrying about. Brad was a man who, despite repeatedly failing at art exhibitions, couldn’t accept his lack of talent and stubbornly wasted his time. Moreover, he enjoyed drinking and gambling, which made it easy to lure him in with money.

And, above all, he wasn’t someone with any real loyalty. As soon as there was a chance to sell his paintings periodically, he broke his promise to Liv and even tried to draw her face somehow.

Perhaps the reason he had kept the identity of his nude model a secret thus far wasn’t because he was loyal but because he knew there was no one else who would pose for his work but Liv, given his lack of skill.

“Are you not going to take any action?”

“Why should I?”

The group Brad was involved with was not one to be taken lightly. Even without Dimus’s intervention, they would never let Brad be.

After encouraging him to borrow money, they would use whatever means necessary to get it back—even if those means were excessively brutal.

“Did you relay the message?”

Receiving Dimus’s gaze, Adolf quickly responded.

“Yes, but…”

It was Adolf who had informed Liv about the temporary suspension of Brad’s work. It wasn’t originally his task, but he had been chosen as the most trustworthy person to deliver the news to Liv.

“She seemed worried that if the work were completely halted, she wouldn’t be able to retrieve the promised painting.”

At Adolf’s words, Dimus raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, the painting.”

Recalling the nude painting he had hung in the basement, Dimus remained silent for a moment.

Honestly… he never intended to return that painting in the first place. Though a contract had been signed, rendering it void would be an easy task.

“Hasn’t she given up on it yet?”

He had thought she had completely forgotten about the painting.

Her initial desire to retrieve it had stemmed from concerns that it might hinder her work as a tutor. And she had taken up that work to care for her ill younger sister and fulfill her duties as the head of her family—the same reasons for her work as a nude model.

Ultimately, it all came down to money, a problem Dimus had already addressed by providing extra work opportunities.

So, even if her job as a tutor was at risk, what issue could possibly arise now?

Retrieving the painting at this point held no meaning.

“I’ll address that separately.”

He had been planning to summon her soon anyway. Their kiss had pleased him more than expected, and there was no sense of repulsion whatsoever.

Considering how repulsive he usually found contact with others, this feeling toward her was clearly exceptional and special. Something rare was meant to be seized quickly.

If her bare skin and the exchange of saliva weren’t unpleasant, wouldn’t more be possible?

Of course, Dimus expected that she wouldn’t reject him either. The distance she had so carefully maintained had vanished the moment she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the carriage.

Recalling her moving toward him willingly, the reluctance he had felt began to fade.

“If you like her so much, why not just keep her by your side?”

Charles, who had been listening to the conversation between Adolf and Dimus with a curious expression, cautiously shared his opinion. Adolf also looked at Dimus, seemingly in agreement.

Dimus glanced at his subordinates before nonchalantly picking up a cigar.

“The more valuable a masterpiece is, the more it deserves to be appropriately compensated.”

To possess a work of art meant recognizing its value, acknowledging it, and treating it accordingly.

“Only then can it truly be ‘owned.’”

Liv was too precious to be experienced indirectly through Brad’s lacking skills. Unlike the pitiful figure she had presented, her true self was quite impressive.

Her body, though appearing slightly thin, had just the right curves, and her unexpectedly flawless skin was just a secondary matter. What captivated Dimus most was her face.

Especially those sorrowful green eyes. Looking as if they might burst into tears at any moment, her gaze was surprisingly composed. Though she seemed ready to break at any second, there was something intriguing about her resilience that made him want to keep pushing her.

And when that steely facade cracked, he liked it immensely.

Merely stripping her naked hadn’t revealed that true face. While it required some effort, it had been worthwhile—he found it rewarding enough.

It even added some vitality to an otherwise monotonous life.

“If all you have is her body, she’s no different from any other sculpture.”

“Do you want her heart as well?” Charles asked, his voice raised in surprise. Considering how many pleas Dimus had received over the years to accept people’s hearts, it seemed astonishing that he was now taking such action.

Dimus didn’t bother to respond.

Adolf, quietly observing, frowned slightly. He knew better than anyone what Dimus was doing to keep Liv by his side, and he seemed unable to help worrying.

“If it turns out that she only clings to your affection and love… she will be just like everyone else.”

And that was one of the things Dimus detested the most—people crying, begging, and demanding his attention. It was precisely because of that he had resorted to paintings and sculptures instead.

“She’s a living person, unlike those pieces of art… she needs a different kind of attention.”

Dimus understood Adolf’s point perfectly.

“That’s rather dull.”

Dimus muttered as if speaking to himself. He wanted to see Liv’s vulnerability, but if abandoning her pride and clinging meant begging for something as insignificant as love or attention, he’d be terribly disappointed. After all, there were far more valuable things in this world.

Liv was an intelligent woman; she should be able to discern as much.

“She knows her place well enough to understand how she should behave if she wants to stay by my side.”

“If she doesn’t behave appropriately…”

Perhaps because Adolf had interacted with Liv more often, he seemed to have developed some sympathy for her.

Dimus shot Adolf an irritated look. Realizing he had overstepped, Adolf winced.

“There’s no need to keep a piece that has lost its value. You’ll handle it then, Adolf. That’s why we drafted a contract, after all.”

Adolf bowed his head. Despite his obedience, Dimus, already displeased, irritably motioned for his attendants to leave.

Left alone in his office, Dimus lit a cigar, recalling Adolf’s words.

If Liv Rodaise didn’t behave appropriately…

If she turned out to be as tedious as everyone else…

Just the thought of it bored him.

Ideally, that wouldn’t happen, but if it did, Dimus’s reaction was already determined.

One of the virtues of a collector was the discernment to know when to discard what was no longer worth keeping.