CHAPTER 118: PAINTED TRUTHS

"Mother, I heard you’ll be leaving after breakfast. Quite surprising, given how early it is—and you prioritize your morning self-care and relaxation," Lady Stephanie spoke, stretching her tone surprisingly as a small smile touched her lips.

Lady Emberg laughed at her words as she moved the chopped square potato to her lips, eating gently.

"Oh, Lady Stephanie, I sometimes wonder if you’re one of my followers. You do keep track of me, and I must say, I’m flattered," she replied, and Stephanie smiled. They had not gone far into their breakfast.

Not long after, the door opened, and a figure strode in with graceful ease. The fork Lady Stephanie was using to cut her meat halted midway as she tried to keep a composed expression. She knew that scent perfectly well.

Why was she caught off guard?

She was surprised that Zekel was here. He hadn’t said anything about coming—and that was what shocked her more than she could express. After that incident in the castle, she and Zekel hadn’t had a proper conversation. He had stopped coming months ago, ever since he finished teaching her brothers.

It was like they were growing apart—but still, the bond was there. The way she felt right now... she just wanted to melt. She hadn’t expected him. Why was he here? She was curious.

Now, she was suddenly very aware of her surroundings. She was mad at him—very much—because this past month, he had seemed to ignore her.

Even though he did nothing wrong, that’s what Lady Stephanie assumed, given he hadn’t even sent her a letter.

She didn’t even know if her feelings were reasonable. She was the one who had been scared—scared of people seeing them, scared of rumors flying. And now that he was doing exactly what she’d asked, she was annoyed.

She shifted and fixed her gaze on her plate, calmly eating.

Zekel sat down, his gaze moving to hers, then shifting calmly to Lady Emberg.

Lady Emberg’s eyes rested on Lady Stephanie, her lips curling ever so slightly.

"I had forgotten to inform you about our guest...Lord Zekel," she said to Lady Stephanie.

Lady Stephanie raised her head and smiled calmly.

"Lord Zekel, it is a pleasure. I hope you enjoy our breakfast," she said as Zekel’s eyes locked with hers. Her body stiffened as she held his gaze. Her stomach flipped, butterflies dancing through her insides.

She quickly shifted her gaze, her face calm—even though her heart was racing and the inside of her was far from calm.

"Lord Zekel," Lady Emberg called, as Zekel raised his wine glass and drank slowly.

"Yes, Lady Emberg?"

"I have considered... I know of your intention to marry my greatest-granddaughter."

Immediately, as those words left her lips—

PLANK!

The fork fell to the floor as Lady Stephanie raised her head in surprise. Her eyes moved first to her great-grandmother, then to Zekel, whose expression was unreadably calm. He took the glass again and sipped quietly, his gaze locked on her as he was enjoying her expression far more than he thought he would.

No one knew what he was thinking.

"Mother..."

That was all Lady Stephanie managed to say as she stared at Lady Emberg with wide eyes. Many thoughts ran through her head as she tried her best to stay calm—her heartbeat growing louder in her chest. She hadn’t expected that. And at this point, she had no idea why she had called her, knowing fully well she had nothing to say.

Stephanie’s eyes slowly moved to Zekel, and their gaze locked again, she gave him a sharp glare. Lady Emberg spoke once more, unaware of the silent, heavy gaze passing between the two.

"Lord Zekel told me you two have met more than twice," Lady Emberg said.

Stephanie almost choked on her saliva, her face flushing hard as she tried to think of what to say. But at this point, she had no words. She didn’t know what else Zekel had told Lady Emberg.

"My greatest-granddaughter will be the one to decide. I have no say in this. I will give you two a week to talk and get to know each other. After that, Lady Stephanie will give me her answer," she declared.

Zekel’s lips curled upwards slightly. He gently dropped the glass cup, then nodded and said,

"Very well, Lady Emberg. I would like to request this week to win your granddaughter’s heart. I would need to stay here, if you don’t mind that."

Lady Stephanie’s heart skipped.

Why did she feel like this man had other carefully layered plans while staying here?

"As you wish. Take this as your home," Lady Emberg replied.

Lady Stephanie just knew—this had been this proud man’s plan all along. And all she needed to do now... was not to fall into the net.

✦✦✦

"A beautiful painting speaks of the inner beauty of a woman—fragile as a flower. And just like flowers have different meanings, so does this one. But this piece tells us something deeper."

"It is the painting called ’Beauty Is Pain,’" a man spoke, standing in a room filled with people. Every chair was occupied. At the front of the room rested a painting of a flower. But the thing was—this flower had no stem, no root. It looked half-dry, while the other half appeared fresh.

One side was vibrant, and the other looked damaged—almost like a deserted land. A sliver of sunlight touched only the healthy side of the flower. All of this is captured in one painting.

"This painting could be a big hit in the future, especially when it’s put up for sale. It might also bring in ten times what you paid for it once the auction begins," the man spoke confidently as the crowd stared at the painting curiously.

A barely-there smile rested on his lips as he moved with a professional air, making sure not to blow his cover. He turned around just as soft whispers began to spread across the room. The place grew louder, the whispers intensifying...meaning many were clearly interested.

"Three gold coins," one man said, raising the auction stick.

"Three gold coins, going..." the announcer began, but another interrupted.

"Five gold coins."

There was silence.

In these villages, gold coins were expensive. Something sold for five gold coins meant you could comfortably feed yourself and your family for a month. One gold coin alone could give many pennies and shillings when exchanged.

"Five gold coins and eight pennies," someone else added.

"Six gold coins." There was a pause.

"Six gold coins—" the man began to finalize the sale, raising the auction staff to strike the table. But he stopped when a deep voice spoke.

"Ten gold coins."

Silence fell. Every eye turned to the speaker. Even the auctioneer paused, stunned. For someone to call out such a high amount for a mere painting... it was unbelievable. Now he was suspicious. If someone was willing to spend that much, maybe this painting wasn’t so ordinary after all. He began to second-guess himself.

He cleared his throat and announced, "Ten gold coins, final—" but was interrupted again.

A man stepped in.

He was draped in a cloak, and his wide hat shadowed his face. Just as he entered, he spoke:

"Fifty gold coins."

The entire hall turned to him. Gasps echoed. The man who had previously bid ten gold coins staggered backward in shock.

How could a mere painting be worth so much?

It was shocking, especially because this was the same painting they were planning to sell off just to clear space..it had been sitting there for a long time.

This was mind-blowing. Not only would it change the auctioneer’s and his crew’s lives, but now he could even afford to buy a new auction house. One where people would pay just to get in.

"That’s final," the auctioneer tried to close it off.

But the cloaked man’s lips curled upward. People still stared at him, whispering in confusion—why would anyone pay that much for this?

"It will be sold for—" he began again, only to be interrupted once more.

"150 coins."

All eyes turned again. Another round of shocked gasps echoed through the room.

The man had been there all along—silent, legs crossed, leaning forward slightly, his cap lowered to hide his face. No one saw his eyes.

The cloaked man smiled wider and replied:

"250 coins." Silence.

"500 coins," the man with the crossed legs said.

The auctioneer’s body trembled. Was he hearing correctly? At this point, it felt like a dream. A beautiful, unbelievable dream.

The cloaked man finally responded:

"1,500 coins."

The hall went deathly quiet.

Then, the quiet man who had been sitting still stood up calmly and declared,

"5,000 coins."

Fredrick—who had been the cloaked man—slowly raised his head to see who had spoken.

His eyes widened as the man removed his cap, turning to Fredrick with a wicked glint in his eye.

That was the man he had met on the ship.

Mister Sleekwood.