“…I see. That makes sense. Lady Maris can’t attend social gatherings without her mother, and I can’t visit your estate either… If a meeting isn’t possible, then a portrait is a good alternative. I think it’s a clever idea. However, I have one condition.”
“A… condition?”
“I want a portrait of Lady Maris too.”
He smiled innocently, adding, “Give it to me as a gift for my birthday in six months.” His smile was so dazzling that I could only bow and agree. Honestly, the overwhelming pressure to comply left me no other choice.
“By the way, can you actually paint?”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll need a drawing board, charcoal, paper, and… hard bread.”
“Hard bread?” he asked, amused. “Alright, try sketching something for me now. Someone, bring her the materials.”
“Excuse me, but how much time will you grant me?”
“Lloyd,” the young lord turned to a handsome 16-year-old attendant with black hair standing nearby. “When is Professor Harvis supposed to arrive for my political economy lesson?”
The boy glanced at me coldly before responding flatly, “The coachman sent word via messenger pigeon that the carriage is delayed. It should arrive in about 40 minutes.”
“With preparations taking about 10 minutes, that leaves you 30 minutes. Is that enough?”
“…It will be sufficient, my lord.”
I steeled myself, fully prepared for my father to berate me or even throw me out into the cold if I failed. But with determination, I accepted the challenge.
“Never neglect your sketches.”
Those were the words of my art teacher. Sketching was the foundation, the essence of everything. Though I lacked the genius of someone like Picasso or Dali, I took pride in my dedication to the basics. Sketching had remained my secret joy, even after reincarnating into this world.
“Quick sketching has been a habit of mine ever since preparing for art school entrance exams. Watching the young lord sitting elegantly in his chair brought back that familiar tension. I picked up the charcoal.
…Alright. I’ll finish this in 30 minutes, no matter what.
＊＊＊
“This is…”
“Incredible…”
“Alma, you’re amazing. Even students at the Adalberta Academy of Fine Arts couldn’t produce a drawing like this.”
“Indeed. It’s truly lifelike. I can’t believe this was drawn with only charcoal. Such extraordinary talent.”
“…Your kind words are more than I deserve. I am deeply grateful.”
The duke and duchess, drawn by the commotion, blinked repeatedly as they compared the drawing to the young lord. My father… well, I didn’t dare look at him, but he was probably furious.
“I… I want this drawing,” said the duchess.
“Madam, this is just a draft!” The steward, flustered, tried to intervene, but the duchess hesitated, clearly torn. Then, the young lord chuckled brightly.
“As a reward for showing us such remarkable skill, Mother, let’s gift her some art supplies. Actually, I’ve already asked Alma to paint a portrait of Lady Maris. We could also ask her to paint my portrait as well.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Alma, do be sure to complete them,” the duchess said with a graceful smile. I bowed deeply in response.
Of course, afterward, my father scolded me as expected. But the duke defended me, saying, “Don’t be too harsh on her loyalty to the young lady. It’s commendable that she sought proper permission rather than acting recklessly. Cut her some slack.” Thanks to his intervention, I escaped with just a lecture and no dinner.
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