Chapter : 34
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Jacqueline and Benjamin both turned their heads at the same time. Windsor, resting his chin on one hand, looked at their paintings in turn with the careful gaze of a man observing artworks in a gallery.
His eyes moved to Benjamin’s painting.
“So this is a war between the god of creation and the god of the sea. You’ve depicted the sea god’s weapon well.”
“Oh, thank you, Uncle.”
Benjamin lowered his gaze shyly. Praise from Windsor was quite rare.
The child fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to do with himself. Windsor added calmly,
“But even though a battle between gods is taking place, the sea is too calm. With that level of power, there should be waves the size of houses.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Benjamin looked at him with sparkling eyes. When it came to the sea, Windsor’s words could not be wrong. He was the devil of the Black Fleet.
“……”
Windsor’s gaze then shifted to Jacqueline’s painting. He looked at it longer than he had at Benjamin’s before faintly furrowing his brow.
“Setting aside the fact that the one holding lightning is the god of creation… what is that fly buzzing around him?”
At that, Jacqueline’s brows twisted as well. Her voice turned haughty.
“A fly? That’s the god born from his thigh.”
“Hmm.”
Windsor turned back to Benjamin.
“I hired a capable painter for you, but it seems unnecessary.”
“Um, Uncle. The thing you saw before wasn’t a five-legged dog—it was actually a horse.”
“Is that so.”
At the child’s words, Windsor glanced at Jacqueline as if asking for confirmation. She nodded sulkily.
“Yes.”
“Do you need a painter? If you plan to learn instead of Benjamin…”
“I don’t need one!”
Jacqueline cut him off sharply and glared at him. Windsor still didn’t understand why her mood had suddenly changed.
Wasn’t she fond of painting?
He remembered her once saying she was interested in art. His memory shouldn’t be wrong.
Windsor studied her painting in detail again. The god of abundance born from the creation god’s thigh still looked like a trivial fly.
Liking something and having talent were not proportional. For someone who liked painting, her skills were poor.
So it would be natural to want to improve—then why was she angry?
Jacqueline, who had been staring at him sideways, lifted her chin slightly and challenged him.
“Then why don’t you try painting it yourself, Lord Preston? There’s a big difference between hearing about it and doing it yourself. That’s why practical experience matters.”
At that, Benjamin nodded enthusiastically. He did not think he could surpass Jacqueline’s skill until he tried painting himself.
Then he stole a glance at her, as if worried she might notice his thoughts.
Haa.
As Benjamin exhaled in relief, Jacqueline forcibly placed a brush into Windsor’s hand. He frowned slightly and looked down at his hand.
Jacqueline gestured for him to begin, chin raised proudly.
“It’s not as easy as it sounds. Since you’re a complete beginner, just try drawing a leaf. Or a cloud. That alone will show you how hard it is to turn an image in your head into a canvas.”
Benjamin watched Windsor with shining eyes. Windsor stepped toward the wall.
After briefly testing the brush, he leisurely dipped it in paint. Then the neat brush tip touched the wall.
There was no hesitation in his movements. It looked almost like careless doodling. He neither pondered like Jacqueline nor immersed himself like Benjamin.
“……”
Yet wherever his brush moved, lush grape vines bloomed. Blue leaves held shimmering dew, and ripe grapes looked ready to burst.
The vines climbing the tree stretched as if reaching the sky, full of life.
“Wow!”
Benjamin gasped. He hopped in place, overwhelmed, forgetting for a moment that such behavior was unbecoming of the future Preston heir.
The devil of the Black Fleet was also skilled at painting. The child was sincerely proud that his uncle was a perfect man.
And he wanted to become like him someday.
“Incredible, Uncle! It looks just like real grapes! Ah, the god of abundance is also the god of wine, right? That’s why you drew grapes!”
“……Hmm.”
Jacqueline stared at the painting, speechless. She wanted to criticize it, but there was nothing to criticize.
It was clearly the work of someone with professional-level skill, even if he claimed to be a beginner. She said reluctantly,
“That’s realism, I suppose. Not bad. But my style is more… beast-like expressionism. You can’t compare them directly.”
“Is that so.”
“Realism is declining anyway, but…”
Jacqueline muttered, looking away awkwardly. Beneath her sulky tone was faint envy.
“You must have inherited your mother’s artistic sense.”
Windsor raised an eyebrow slightly and stepped back. The childish scribbles contrasted sharply with the vivid realistic grapes.
Glancing at Benjamin’s painting, he replied casually,
“Perhaps it’s my father’s talent.”
“……Talent.”
Jacqueline repeated the word, pouting slightly.
Talent could be cruel. It is not given to those who need it, yet is bestowed like a gift upon those who do not long for it.
Clink.
Windsor set down the brush. Then he glanced at his hand. Green paint stained his fingers.
He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. Nothing was there.
It seemed he had left it somewhere again, as usual. It was not the first time he had misplaced gloves, canes, or glasses.
It was not worth worrying about.
As Windsor turned to leave, a handkerchief suddenly appeared in front of him. He looked up to see Jacqueline’s sulky face.
“Were you looking for this? You probably left it somewhere again.”
Benjamin looked shocked. His perfect uncle forgetting a handkerchief was unthinkable.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Windsor accepted it. He still did not understand why her expression was so sharp.
He simply adapted to the storm.
He wiped his hand slowly. The pale pink handkerchief carried a faint rose scent. Green paint stained it deeply.
“……”
He stuffed the dirty handkerchief into his pocket. Jacqueline had already turned away, absorbed in her painting.
—Did you really think I acted without reason, just for my own amusement?
He remembered her words from the day she first painted on the wallpaper.
Benjamin stood blankly, while Jacqueline was immersed in her work.
It was clear who enjoyed it more—Jacqueline, not Benjamin.
Windsor nodded slightly to the child.
“Wasn’t your afternoon class basic mathematics?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
That was the end of it. Windsor left the room.
After a few steps, he stopped and turned back.
Benjamin was still watching him intently.
“You were misunderstood for a painting you didn’t draw, yet you kept the secret for a lady’s honor. That is commendable.”
“Thank you, Uncle!”
The child replied brightly, cheeks flushed with excitement.
Only after Windsor left did Jacqueline set down her brush and mutter:
“Misunderstanding… lady’s honor…”
Then she turned to Benjamin.
“Benjamin, once again: Lord Preston’s painting and mine cannot be compared. They are simply different styles.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset.”
“We don’t have much time. Let’s finish quickly.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset.”
Windsor, with his unusually sharp hearing, let out a faint laugh as he walked down the corridor.
Then he clenched his fist slightly.
Somewhere, a faint scent of roses lingered.
Summer had come to the Preston estate.
Later
Benjamin glanced nervously at the clock. It was exactly 2:00 PM.
“Miss Somerset.”
“Yes, Benjamin?”
Jacqueline was lounging on the sofa reading an illustrated newspaper.
“The carriage still hasn’t arrived. Maybe they forgot our appointment?”
Jacqueline laughed lightly. Benjamin looked at the clock again, confused.
The minute hand moved one step forward—2:01 PM.
“Benjamin.”
Jacqueline called his name gently. The child turned to her.
“Lateness among nobles is very common. From ten minutes to even a couple of hours. If you arrive exactly on time, you might look like you have nothing to do.”
“But that’s inefficient.”
“Ahaha.”
Jacqueline laughed aloud. She remembered hearing the same words from Windsor before.
Benjamin might have heard them too—and remembered them carefully.
“Why are you laughing, Miss Somerset?”
Benjamin tilted his head in protest. Jacqueline stood up.
“No reason. Besides, it seems the carriage has arrived. Olivia isn’t quite that inefficient after all.”
“Yes…”
Benjamin adjusted his bow tie nervously, smoothing his hair. He was clearly anxious about his first friend visit.
Footsteps approached down the hallway.
Benjamin straightened his posture.
A knock sounded.
“Miss Olivia Riley has arrived.”