Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 30
“Even if it wasn’t your intention, most people would likely interpret this painting the same way I do. Do you truly believe this depicts a tender moment between lovers enjoying a boat ride?”
“I have committed an unforgivable sin! My hands have done wrong!”
Yannick threw himself prostrate on the floor.
Nobles placed great importance on their dignity and prestige, especially regarding portraits, which were considered symbols of their status and power. A poorly rendered face could be seen as an affront. They would destroy it forcibly.
Although the painting depicted the Duke beautifully, its underlying message was far from flattering. The Duke could easily take this as an insult, seeing it as an attack on his character.
Moreover, the portrait had been made without his permission.
Creating an unauthorized portrait of a noble, particularly one they found offensive, was a serious breach of etiquette and could result in legal repercussions.
“If this painting were to become public, it could jeopardize my longstanding betrothal to Werfel. It would be seen as a slight against the Werfel family. Count Werfel would hear that Duke Krygen has disrespected his only daughter.”
“Please, just kill me! I was wrong! I will destroy the painting immediately!”
Yannick’s initial hope of making a fortune had turned into a nightmare. This is a mess.
He had insulted two powerful noble families with a single painting. He bowed so low that blood was rushing to his head. But it was insignificant compared to the terror he felt. As he trembled, the Duke knelt down on one knee beside him.
“Raise your head, Yannick Horton.”
“I cannot! Please, forgive me!”
Yannick was too terrified to raise his head and look at the Duke’s face.
“Look at me. I have something to ask you in confidence.”
In confidence? Could this be….?
Hesitantly, Yannick began to lift his head. He was hoping it would be a chance to escape this situation.
Click.
“Your Grace, you have another visitor.”
“I am already engaged with a guest.”
The butler, looking uncomfortable at his displeased tone, said again,
“It’s Yannick Horton’s sister.”
His sister?
“She says it’s urgent….Her name is Macy Horton.”
The Duke’s gaze shifted to the butler, his face darkening with displeasure. His frustration was so obvious, even to Yannick.
The previously languid Duke that interrogated Yannick now appeared visibly annoyed, unable to conceal his emotions.
Rubens sighed deeply before issuing a low command.
“Tell her to wait outside. I’ll send Yannick Horton out shortly.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Was he simply going to let him go? Forgive him? Or was this a summons to return tomorrow?
Yannick was bewildered by the uncertain situation when suddenly someone barged into the room.
“You can’t just go in there without permission!”
“Wait, just a moment! I need to say something! You can’t show that painting!”
The source of the commotion was none other than Yannick’s sister, Macy. Maids tried to restrain her, but she stubbornly pushed forward, her eyes locking with Yannick’s. She also spotted her painting next to him, and her face instantly displayed a look of dismay.
“She… she drew it!”
At that moment, Yannick exclaimed. He seized an opportunity he hadn’t anticipated.
“She drew that! It’s not my painting! My sister can paint too!”
He never thought he would ever say those words with his own mouth. The situation felt surreal, but Macy’s appearance now seemed like a godsend, a last lifeline from the heavens.
“Your Grace, so please, hold her accountable instead!”
Macy realized the situation and began to back away.
“See! Tell the truth, Macy! Isn’t it your work?”
“I…”
Macy’s hands were trembling. She had rushed in with urgency but now stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock, unable to speak.
The Duke’s gaze flickered between Yannick and Macy before he twisted his lips in a sardonic smile and stood up.
‘Yes, that’s it! I’m saved!’
However, instead of approaching Macy, the Duke strode purposefully towards the fireplace beside the door. He grabbed a sword that was mounted above it. With a swift, metallic sound, the sharp blade emerged from its scabbard.
“…”
A tense silence enveloped the room. It felt as if the very air had frozen, and no one dared to even breathe.
The Duke walked back towards Yannick, sword in hand.
“It’s… it’s not me…”
“I don’t care who painted it.”
“Please, Your Grace! I was wrong!”
“The issue is that you insulted the Krygen name.”
“Just this once, have mercy! Spare me!”
A chilling smile curled at the Duke’s lips. The sight of the sharp blade held by his white silk-gloved hand should have seemed out of place, but instead, it fit him perfectly, making Yannick feel like he was in a nightmare.
‘This can’t be real. How did things go so wrong?’
As he watched the blade’s tip approach his neck, Yannick realized this was no dream. Just the slightest touch of the sword had already drawn blood, and warm liquid trickled down his neck.
“Didn’t you beg me to kill you earlier, painter?”
“Sob… sob…”
“I despise men who speak with a forked tongue.”
There was no hint of mercy in the Duke’s cold, unyielding expression.
