Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 19
“Hmm, hmm-“
Yannick hummed a tune, feeling the languidness of noon. The scent of aromatic tea pleasantly lingered around his nose. Spring, with its thawing ice, was truly a time of comfort and peace.
‘It was indeed a harsh winter.’
Macy had not been able to paint properly for about three years. The sudden end to the earnings had thrown all his business plans off course, including his plans to obtain a title.
Yannick could have secured it sooner if he hadn’t squandered money on gambling.
‘It’s absurd that Obelit’s foremost painter is still a commoner.’
In this context, the foremost painter of Obelit was undoubtedly Yannick Horton.
The foolish art world, unaware that the female painter they so despised nearly had to put down her brush due to the manifestation of her Name, did not spare its praises for Yannick, calling it the revival of a genius painter.
The taste of regained fame was as sweet as it was intense, making his tongue tingle.
Drat, drat, drat.
“What on earth is she doing upstairs to make so much noise?”
Catherine, resting her head on Yannick’s knee and proudly looking at a newly purchased ring, spoke irritably. The studio above the drawing room belonged to Macy.
“She must be moving the easel around. Macy has been really dedicated lately.”
Now as she was able to move her hands freely, Macy had been painting furiously, as if to compensate for the time she couldn’t draw. Surely Macy felt the deep importance of it.
For Yannick, it was just money, and for Macy, it was her paintings.
“If she’s going to drag things around, she should have the servants do it. Macy can be quite stubborn, you know? Lately, she’s even started locking her door.”
“Artists are sensitive about their own space.”
Yannick defended Macy. He had been endlessly generous to Macy, now that she could paint again.
“But she didn’t used to be like that. It’s odd that she’s started doing things she never did before.”
Catherine sat up, clearly displeased.
“A lot seems odd.”
“It’s really strange. Even her tone and the look in her eyes seem subtly different to me lately. Has she become colder?”
“…..”
Yannick had noticed a subtle change in Macy’s attitude too. Just like Catherine had pointed out, it seemed odd. Even attributing it to the typical sensitivity of an artist didn’t quite fit; Macy had never shown such a side before.
“Maybe she’s got something else on her mind?”
“What kind of something?”
Yannick began to pay closer attention to Catherine’s words.
“Is she thinking of running away? Maybe coming clean about her being the real painter…”
“That timid Macy?”
Yannick scoffed at the idea, dismissing it as improbable. What the Horton siblings did was clearly fraudulent.
If Macy was to reveal that she was the actual painter, she wouldn’t just reclaim her name but also potentially face legal consequences alongside Yannick.
‘And run away?’
That seemed even more far-fetched. Where would Macy go, and how would she survive?
Yannick controlled all the money earned from the paintings under the pretext of managing her finances, and Macy only received a small allowance from him. That amount wouldn’t even afford a shack in the slums.
“That’s nonsense. There’s no way that’s happening. Didn’t I have Macy starve a bit when she couldn’t use her hands? Maybe there’s some resentment left from that.”
“You’re treating her like a caged mouse.”
Irritated, Catherine left the drawing room.
Upstairs, the thumping noises continued. Although Yannick wanted to ignore it, the persistent sounds were bothersome.
‘What sort of grand art warrants this fuss….’
Eventually, Yannick set his teacup down and headed to the second-floor studio. He knocked gently on the door, disguising his voice as calmly as possible.
“Macy, is everything okay?”
No response came from the other side. When he tried the doorknob, it was locked, as expected.
‘That annoying noise must definitely be coming from the studio…’
Wondering if Macy had perhaps returned to her bedroom in the meantime, Yannick also checked there, but she wasn’t present.
He went back to the studio door and knocked harder this time.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Macy, if you’re in there, can you answer me?”
“…..”
