‘This is my fight.’

He poured his soul into it, standing in front of the huge 300-size canvas.

“No… this isn’t it.”

Valentin, who had been checking the colors by coloring them in advance with colored pencils in a small sketchbook for days, muttered while crumpling the paper. The sketch was already complete.

But he hadn’t even started coloring. This was because no color that resonated with him had appeared. There were already several crumpled papers rolling on the floor from Valentin’s hand, unable to come up with a satisfactory color scheme. It seemed like there should be a perfect combination of colors to express that solid energy… but something was lacking.

Eventually, after trying for another hour or two, Valentin left the studio carrying even more crumpled papers than before.

“Your Highness, I’ll take those.”

A young servant waiting outside the studio hurried to follow. Valentin frowned as he faced him.

“I thought I said no one should be waiting when I’m in the studio.”

“…Butler Dawson was worried about Your Highness… he asked me to take over while waiting.”

Valentin sighed upon hearing this.

The servants simply didn’t understand that just knowing someone was waiting outside made him uncomfortable and unable to concentrate on his painting. Thinking he should warn Dawson again, he opened his mouth.

“I don’t let anyone touch my paintings. It’s been that way since I was very young, and it hasn’t changed. That goes for even these simple sketch scraps.”

The servant bowed his head deeply.

“You don’t need to follow me. Go back and rest. I’ll speak to Dawson myself.”

Feeling bad that he looked dejected, Valentin gave a final warm instruction and then headed towards Reynard’s office.

Valentin’s workroom was actually a painting studio. Due to the risk of paint deterioration and ventilation issues, the fireplace was not lit except in the depths of winter. But Reynard’s office and library, which had the largest fireplace in Lution House and always kept it burning, would probably still have a roaring fire even now. Valentin hurried in that direction, carrying an armful of papers with ruined drawings.

‘Since it’s daytime and Reynard won’t be there, I should quickly go and burn these right away.’

The couple’s relationship had become awkward since that day.

Valentin had even firmly demanded separate bedrooms, intending to drive the point home. Reynard was bewildered but gentlemanly granted Valentin’s request. So they were now sleeping apart for the first time since their marriage. Ever since divorce was mentioned at the dining table that day.

Although it was his own choice, he felt somehow unsettled, but it was something he had to steel himself for the future. He was spending time thinking of it as practice in advance.

Valentin estimated the time until his husband’s return, repeating it in his head as he opened the door to the office.

From a distance, he could see a servant standing in front of the fireplace. He was handling brilliantly colored file folders, sorting papers and folders with familiarity. It seemed he was separating what shouldn’t be burned from what should go into the fireplace.

A servant in charge of the library, burning unnecessary documents or letters in bunches in the fireplace. He was one of those Reynard kept close, specializing in managing books and staying here permanently. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice Valentin approaching until he was quite close.

When Valentin got close enough for him to notice, he encountered a scene that was both unsurprising and surprising at the same time.

“Oh…?”

It wasn’t surprising to see documents being thrown into the fireplace. It’s quite possible that things that shouldn’t be leaked externally are burned daily in the master’s absence. However, his startled jump and expression as if caught doing something he shouldn’t were strange and unexpected enough.

‘Why is he so surprised…?’

In that moment, struck by an odd hunch, Valentin shouted.

“Stop.”

The man froze in the awkward posture of holding a stack of papers about to throw them into the fireplace.

The flames were so fierce that sparks had just begun to catch on the thick cards. Without thinking, Valentin rushed forward and snatched them away.

“Your Highness…!”

It was already after small flames had started to spread. Ignoring the servant crying out in alarm that the master’s hand might be burned, Valentin threw the burning cards on the floor and stamped them out several times with his foot.

Then he picked up the thing that looked ornate and luxurious even at a glance. A picture printed in gold leaf, the emblem of a crowned lion was scorched on the half-burned card.

‘It’s the Emperor’s symbol.’

As soon as Valentin confirmed this, he unconsciously opened and read it as if entranced.

…In the name of the Emperor of the great Empire and the lord of the Dennox Grand Ducal family, the Imperial family cannot tolerate a spouse unable to bear an heir, and hereby orders divorce at the earliest date…

Among the Emperor’s elegant handwriting, only that sentence stabbed into Valentin’s heart with a fishy smell.

Valentin blankly stared at the Emperor’s mandate, its edges charred with gray ash about to fall off, and recalled that time. The image of the Emperor shouting at the top of his lungs that this couldn’t be.

And many faces flashed by. Family members who just smiled bitterly even while preparing for the marriage to the Grand Ducal family… His father who tried hard to hide his displeased face until the end, his mother who smiled saying it was fine if it was someone he loved, Dalton who couldn’t hide his worry until the last moment. And Grand Duke Howard Dennox, his father-in-law, who told him he was already a member of the Dennox family. The man who rarely smiled beamed happily when he saw Valentin’s belly growing. But now never again…

Shaking off the painful thoughts, Valentin snatched the other documents the servant was holding.

They were divorce application papers already signed with the Emperor’s seal and a file containing the personal information of Lady Sabina Akal.

‘These are the documents exchanged when marriage talks are ongoing.’

Valentin had exchanged such things with the Grand Ducal family through his father too. Baptism certificates and documents confirming membership in noble families. The Emperor had sent this to Reynard. Urging divorce from Valentin while recommending a suitable new marriage that could bear an heir. It was truly a blatant act.

“…Did he order you to burn this?”

The servant turned pale at the mistress’s low voice, speaking as if her expression had frozen like someone without emotions.

“I don’t know what’s written in there, Your Highness!”

“I didn’t ask if you had read it.”

“I was only burning it as the master ordered…”

He shook his head, turning white. His hair shook violently as he shook his head, insisting he had done nothing wrong.

As Valentin just blankly stared at him with cold eyes, he stammered out more excuses.

“I… I knew it was a letter from His Majesty the Emperor… but my heart felt heavy about burning it, so…”

It was a crime to carelessly read and handle letters from the royal family. Perhaps he was anxious about burning it despite knowing the law well, even though following his master’s orders. He seemed to be quite a timid and righteous fellow for a servant of Lution House under Reynard’s command.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s one of the things he ordered to be burned without anyone seeing…”

Valentin shifted his gaze back to the card.

“Then you should follow orders.”

Speaking in an emotionless tone, he threw the card with the Emperor’s handwriting back into the fireplace. Then, ignoring the servant who was trembling realizing his mistake, Valentin threw the papers he had brought into it as well.

The small flames flared up, consuming the papers.

Valentin quietly watched as they lost their shape and disappeared without a trace, turning to ash. Then he spoke softly.

“…Don’t tell my husband.”

And he stared intently at the divorce papers with the Emperor’s signature before tucking them under his arm.

The servant, now looking like he might cry, stared at Valentin with wide eyes. It was a conflicted gaze.

“You simply burned all this as your master ordered. And you didn’t encounter me.”

Though he feigned calmness, perhaps the servant sensed the sharpness beneath. He nodded with teary eyes.

Valentin turned and left the place. His steps quickened as he walked back down the corridor he had come through.

Though inspiration for the colors hadn’t fully come yet, he needed to complete the painting as soon as possible. It was a painting that could only see the light while he was in this position.

He deeply hid his wounded heart at the bottom of his heart. This was something he had prepared for anyway. Reality hadn’t changed, and he had made up his mind to do what he could. There was no time to rest.

Thus Valentin opened the door to his studio again.

* * *

The light in Valentin’s studio never went out. From the heartbreaking spring through summer, until the cool autumn was about to arrive. It stayed lit without a moment’s rest.

Thick paint was applied to large brushes and knives as big as palms. They crossed the firmly fixed canvas under powerful strokes.

Throughout the season of the sun, the momentum was tremendous and full of vitality, unbelievable for someone who had just recovered from illness and heartbreak. The painting was filled with vibrancy and passion as if burning life’s energy itself, combusting to emit great heat.

My daughter, beautiful as a flower.

How dare I forget you.

As if a part of my life had been torn away, you who were a piece of my body that hurt so much.

It’s not like that.

I couldn’t lock myself in a room trapped in my own sorrow like before. How could I lie still like a corpse, killing myself, when you had become like that.

I had no choice but to find strength, my child.

Poison. Terrible poisoning. Despite being driven into this harsh situation where I had no choice but to lose you, despite becoming a victim of political strife and discord, it was because I had an unwavering will and consciousness that I couldn’t let go.

Please understand and forgive me that I had beliefs and ideals I wanted to protect until the end even after losing you.

Valentin apologized thus to his daughter sent to heaven first while constantly painting for the Imperial Princess. This was Valentin’s revenge, having vowed to look ahead and move forward.

These days, the newspapers and weekly magazines were unsettling every day.

Each gentlemen’s club and various intellectual salons were in an uproar daily. Society was in turmoil, strangely tangled as the price of New Poppin’s tincture skyrocketed, making it difficult to supply to slums and hospitals. There were also painful pleas pouring in from those who had somehow managed to take the barely supplied medicine. People were popping up here and there talking about side effects.

He had endured day after day, hiding the feeling that his heart might crumble.

Now it was time to put an end to all of this.