“My lady, I brought the supplies you requested.”

“Oh, that was quick. Thank you.”

Sarah entered the room with her arms full of art supplies while I stood by the window, staring outside. In her hands were all kinds of paints and brushes, along with an easel and a blank canvas.

“My lady, where would you like me to put them?”

“Give me the easel and the canvas. You can place the rest on the table. And once you’re done arranging everything, sit on my bed.”

“Y-Your bed?” Sarah asked in surprise while setting down the supplies.

“Yes. Or would you rather receive your punishment standing up?”

Sarah stared at me silently for a moment. Then, suddenly clasping her hands together, she closed her eyes and spoke with surprising courage.

“My lady, you keep talking about punishment, but… forgive me for asking… what kind of punishment could you possibly give me with painting supplies?”

“I’m going to paint your portrait,” I answered without hesitation.

“M-My portrait?”

“Yes. In order for me to paint you properly, you’ll have to stay completely still for hours. I’d say that’s a rather harsh punishment.”

As Sarah had probably already guessed, I wasn’t doing this as punishment at all. I felt guilty for accusing her earlier, but both because I was technically a duchy’s lady and because of my own pride, I couldn’t bring myself to apologize directly.

This portrait was my own awkward way of expressing regret.

If she accepted, I would use the only talent life had ever given me and paint her beautifully.

Sarah stared at me with her mouth hanging open, as though trying to determine whether or not I was joking.

When she continued to remain silent, I finally spoke again.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked. “Sit down.”

“My lady… did I hear you correctly? You really want to paint me?”

I frowned slightly.

“Yes. Why does that surprise you so much?”

Damn it.

I had asked that question with the carelessness of someone raised in the modern world.

But the answer was obvious.

Sarah was a servant.

And I was a duke’s daughter.

In a world where hierarchy mattered this much, asking something like that so casually made me the idiot.

Sarah lowered her head awkwardly.

“My lady… I’m only a servant,” she said quietly.

“What does that matter?” I asked, trying to recover from my mistake. “I simply want to paint a human portrait.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I saw Sarah’s expression change.

For a servant to receive treatment like this from the noblewoman she served—especially one with Beatrice’s terrible reputation—was something extraordinary.

“My lady—”

“I’ll only say it one last time,” I interrupted firmly. “Sit down and pose.”

With a timid expression, Sarah perched herself carefully at the edge of the bed while I began setting up the easel.

I carefully secured the canvas in place. The texture of the linen beneath my fingers felt nothing like the cheap materials I used back in my own world.

A small smile appeared on my face as I sat down and began arranging the paints.

Magenta. Baby blue. Golden yellow…

I couldn’t remember another moment in my life when I had seen so many colors gathered together at once.

From among the countless brushes, I selected my favorite and began the portrait.

Brown for the hair.

Hazel for the eyes.

“My lady, may I ask you something?”

At the sound of Sarah’s voice, I slowly lifted my head. My maid was staring at me curiously.

“Yes?” I replied gently.

“How long have you liked painting?”

“I only became interested in it recently.”

“Oh… that’s wonderful.”

I froze for a moment with the brush in my hand.

Sarah had managed to gather these supplies incredibly quickly. But if Beatrice had never cared about painting…

“Sarah,” I said. “May I ask you something too?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Where exactly did you find all of this?”

“The supplies?”

“Yes.”

“I brought them from the attic, my lady,” Sarah answered. “They were your birthday gifts from three or four years ago.”

I nodded slowly to show I understood.

Everything made sense now.

Someone had gifted Beatrice such a beautiful painting set for her birthday, and the foolish girl had never even bothered using it.

Minutes later, Sarah’s portrait was complete.

While wiping my hands with a cloth I’d requested earlier, I also explained to Sarah how to preserve the painting properly.

“You shouldn’t keep it somewhere too warm. And don’t hang it where sunlight can hit it directly, or the colors might fade. If I had varnish, I could’ve handled that, but—”

“That won’t be necessary, my lady,” Sarah interrupted in panic. “Thank you so very much. I promise I’ll take excellent care of it.”

I smiled tiredly at my maid.

At first, she clearly hadn’t believed there was any chance I would actually gift the painting to her. But now she looked almost childishly excited.

I picked up the portrait and carefully handed it to her.

“Thank you again, my lady. Truly.”

I laughed softly.

“You’re very, very welcome.”

“If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call for me.”

After Sarah left, a deep silence settled over the room.

I returned to the window. Since I had nothing else to do, I dragged a comfortable chair over and simply watched the garden.

As my eyelids grew heavy, the only thing on my mind was my mother.

A few moments later, I slowly opened my eyes.

My vision was completely blue.

I was lying on something soft.

After blinking several times, I realized I was staring up at a bright blue sky.

And beneath me…

…was grass.

“The last thing I remember… I was sitting in my room.”

Breathing unevenly, I slowly pushed myself upright. Barely managing to stand, I quickly scanned my surroundings.

These trees and flowers…

That familiar gazebo…

The duchy garden!

The place looked almost identical to the garden of the Willow Duchy.

Except it stretched endlessly in every direction—and the manor itself was nowhere to be seen.

That was when I realized it.

I was dreaming.

Then… then she had to be here!

“Beatrice!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Panic rising inside me, I searched desperately around the garden.

The problem was that there was no one here besides me.

As I stood there helplessly scanning the empty landscape, a strange glow suddenly caught my attention from inside the gazebo nearby.

It was the same gazebo where Luciana had argued with me.

Without even understanding why, I ran straight toward it.

The source of the glow was there.

Near the ceiling of the gazebo floated a yellow flower suspended in midair. It looked as though gravity had no effect on it at all. Its snowdrop-like yellow petals radiated a hypnotic light across the surroundings.

For several minutes, I stared at the flower as though entranced before realizing it never stayed the same.

Every ten seconds, the flower withered, its petals blackening and falling apart—

—and then it bloomed all over again from the very beginning.

“W-What is this…?”

As the flower repeatedly died and revived like a phoenix, nausea twisted violently in my stomach.

My vision blurred.

My head spun.

The moment I felt something wet sliding from my lips down to my chin, my hand moved instinctively to my mouth.

To see what it was, I quickly raised my hand to eye level.

The sight made a shocked curse slip from my lips before I could stop it.

“Shit…”

The substance coating my hand was dark red blood.