* * *

Where people gather, rumors naturally gather as well. Even if the setting was in high society, where nobles have come together.

Talk about Violet was a great topic for the gossipmongers. Rumors about her were distorted and sometimes maliciously twisted. This was even more evident when it came to people with ill feelings towards her.

“Why would a lady of her rank behave so crudely?”

“They say the Everett lineage has become tainted. Do you truly believe she’s part of that household?”

“Cultured manners are usually inborn.”

“Why would a ducal lady try to make money in the first place? And she’s engaging in activities like this with the commoners?”

“Have you heard? Ducal Lady Everett is rumored to be holding an art exhibition this time. Who knows what the country is coming to…”

In a place like this, speaking out made things true.

The noble ladies in these social gatherings, while veiling their true feelings in such phrases, did everything they could to tarnish Violet’s reputation.

They collectively referred to her as the ‘disposable pawn’.

The current heir of the duchy, Young Duke Roen, cherished her, but there were stories that he would one day use Violet as a pawn and thereafter throw her away.

“Oh my, Lady Diaz, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just have something to think about on my own.”

Amelia Diaz, the woman addressed as Lady Diaz, replied like so as she flinched a little.

The reason why Violet received criticism in this gathering was simple. The ducal lady of the empire, who should be actively participating in social activities, was secluding herself at home, doing nothing but painting.

While painting fell within the realm of culture, actively pursuing a career as an artist was quite different. For nobles, engaging in manual labor was considered lowly and disgraceful, especially for something like painting.

Amelia Diaz was a viscount’s daughter, and she was a regular attendee of such gatherings. So, she pondered for a while. Why would painting be considered lowly?

As the conversation resumed, she asked.

“But is painting really such a lowly task?”

“Excuuuse me? What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I misspoke.”

“Ohoho. Lady Amelia, you’re quite something.”

The response to her genuine confusion was sharp and immediate.

While they gathered here as friends, fundamentally, they were competitors. In this world, the friend sitting beside you today might be replaced by another the next day. Of course, this was based on the prestige of their family.

Amelia Diaz swiftly changed the topic.

Still, she asked herself. Could one really criticize someone who chose their own path instead of following the path set by others? Which life was nobler, one where you’d be forced to marry a good man, raise children, and be content with that… Or one where you could pursue your passion and interests?

“Lady Diaz?”

“Oh, I was just lost in thought. By any chance, have you heard about Young Lord Heisen?”

The topic quickly shifted.

Of course, not all women followed just one path.

There were women who also inherited their household’s title, and many others who pursued their own careers as professionals.

It’s just that… the path usually trodden by noblewomen was what makes them noble, as they would believe.

Living a life as though you were an accessory—oh, what a beautiful thing.

Those who had been continuously imbibed with this notion thought this was what’s right.

As the conversation moved through different topics several times, another piece of news came up.

“My goodness! So this is the Ducal Lady’s move!”

It was in the form of a newspaper article.

* * *

“So, what do you want to say?”

“Well, I wanted to have a calm conversation, but it seems the atmosphere isn’t very welcoming.”

An air of tension hung between them as the onlookers swallowed hard, watching this stand-off closely.

Compared to the maestro who had apparently disparaged the ducal lady’s reputation, the apprentices watching them looked even more nervous.

Heavy silence hung in the air as people prickled their ears, waiting for the conversation to continue. Only the blameless students were feeling so worried to death.

Their teacher had just created a significant incident.

Despite that, he stood there confidently due to his great self-esteem and pride. Perhaps one could say that his pride equaled or even surpassed that of the high nobility.

“If you’ve come because of that article, I have nothing to say. I only told the truth.”

“Is that so?”

Violet responded with a haughty smile to the bold painter’s words.

The way this much younger woman spoke so confidently and condescendingly didn’t sit well with the maestro. His eyebrows visibly twitched.

On the other hand, Violet found the maestro’s reaction intriguing.

No matter how strong his reputation was, how could he come forward like this in front of high nobility?

She studied the thoughts going through the painter’s head for a moment and then decided to stop. Perhaps he was just another foolish man, like Mikhail. She came to a simple conclusion.

As Mary had been serving Violet for a while now, she had learned a thing or two over the months. Emulating the same countenance as Violet, she remained silent and maintained a stoic expression.

Meanwhile Cairn, who also tagged along, yawned with an irritated expression, clearly bored.

Violet wondered as she studied the maestro’s demeanor. Was it because she was on his home turf? Because he had established a position for himself?

His face bore the marks of time—a seasoned painter’s countenance.

Violet asked.

“I’m curious about what you think is wrong with my art.”

“Are you asking because you really don’t know?”

“I don’t. So tell me. What is it that I’ve done wrong?”

“Hah…”

The maestro’s expression turned icy at Violet’s calm inquiry. His expression clearly shouted, ‘Truly? You don’t know?’

Despite his discourteous demeanor, Violet continued to smile casually as she looked at him.

“Very well, it seems you genuinely don’t know what the problem is, so let me explain it to you. Your paintings, milady, lack the basics. The fundamentals.”

The maestro’s words were more predictable than Violet had expected.

In this era, the essence of painting was to capture the beauty of reality, above all, to faithfully reproduce the wondrous creations of the divine. To achieve this, one needed a strong foundation in the fundamentals.

However, Violet’s paintings dabbled in the surreal and made no effort to mimic reality. The fundamentals were utterly lacking. That was his point.

His ramblings were more akin to philosophical and aesthetic theories. The maestro spewed words with spittle flying all over the air.

Violet listened casually and then raised her head, smiling.

“I see. Then I’d like to ask you one more question.”

“Fine.”

“Have you ever personally seen one of my paintings?”