Later, when the ducal household sent me oil painting supplies, I immediately began working on the young lord’s portrait. Inspired by Vermeer and Rembrandt, I focused on adding a sense of light and shadow, painting the young lord as I’d seen him that day, seated in a refined, verdant room.
I poured my heart into capturing his serene smile bathed in light, and I was thoroughly satisfied with the result.
I was exhausted after completing two portraits—one for Lady Maris and one for the ducal family—but I powered through with sheer determination.
When my father saw the completed paintings, he glanced between me and the portraits a few times before saying, “Do you want to attend the Academy of Fine Arts?” But I shook my head. In this country, female artists aren’t accepted. The academy is a boys-only institution.
“Alma, what will you do with the young lord’s painting?”
“You’ll see.”
I promptly presented the painting to Lady Maris, who was happily munching on macarons. For this moment, I had prepared by creating picture books of Cinderella, Snow White, and other princesses, reading them to her over time. Thanks to that groundwork, Lady Maris was already infatuated with the idea of a prince.
“Lady Maris, this is your fiancé, Lord Mikhail.”
“Huh?”
As expected, Lady Maris froze, dropping her macaron to the floor, her eyes glued to the painting.
“…A p-prince?”
“Yes, he is as splendid and noble as a prince. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to meet him, I took the liberty of painting this portrait, even at the risk of being scolded.”
“…So beautiful.”
Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, the first signs of a budding crush, I decided to drive the point home.
“Actually, Lady Maris, Lord Mikhail gave me a condition when I painted this.”
“A condition? What’s that?”
“It’s a promise to grant the other person’s request if they grant yours.”
“A promise…? W-what did Mikhail say?”
Lady Maris asked timidly, and with a bright, triumphant smile, I delivered the fatal blow.
“Lord Mikhail said he wants a portrait of you as well. He’s asked me to paint exactly as I see you now and present it to him on his birthday in five months.”
“!?”
When Lady Maris saw the painting, her eyes widened, and she dashed to the nearest mirror. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, poking at the flabby flesh of her double chin, her face turning pale and her eyes brimming with tears.
“Alma! Don’t paint me like this! I don’t want it! This isn’t what a princess looks like!”
Apparently, all the princess stories I had read to her had worked their magic—she now believed that only slender and beautiful girls could be worthy of a prince. I feigned a troubled expression, pretending not to notice her distress.
“My lady, you are our precious princess. Please, have confidence in yourself.”
“No! Maris isn’t a princess! I don’t want Lord Mikhail to see me like this!”
As Lady Maris threw a tantrum and burst into tears, my father shot me a look that clearly said, “You’re a monster, aren’t you?” I chose to ignore it.
“My lady, it’s alright. You still have five months! If you lose some weight, you’ll become a stunning young lady.”
“Lose weight?”
“Yes! Sweets are the main cause of weight gain. If you reduce them a little, eat more vegetables, and exercise regularly, you’ll slim down in no time. Don’t worry, my lady—I completed the young lord’s portrait with sheer determination. You can do it too!”
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