Harold didn’t respond but turned around to choose a wooden sword. This was the weakness I had on him. In the kingdom, it was customary to cut off the wrist of someone caught stealing.

Harold, a knight of the Fennel family, had come to the dining hall after training and saw a child stealing bread. The child was the son of a maid working there. True to his kind nature, he obviously forgave the boy.

He patted the boy’s head, warning him not to do it again, and even gave him the portion of bread meant for himself, then turned around and caught my eye.

I had seen this scene by chance and, out of desperation, thought to use it as an opportunity.

Of course, I had no intention of actually reporting the boy’s wrongdoing and causing his wrist to be cut off.

From the beginning, I didn’t intend to suppress Riccardo’s artistic spirit with such extreme methods.

Riccardo would draw anytime, anywhere. Of course, it wasn’t his will.

The night Riccardo started drawing the labyrinth, I entered his room and stole all the tools he could use to draw.

But the next day, I was forced to despair.

The young artist, crazed by his art, had turned the entire wall into a canvas and drawn a labyrinth.

Without paint and brushes, he had used ink and his fingers, creating a drawing so beautiful it could steal a person’s soul. But I had to erase that masterpiece myself.

The ink drawing on the shiny wooden wall thankfully came off when scrubbed with a foamy brush. Of course, it didn’t disappear with just one or two scrubs; it took a lot of effort to remove it completely.

Eventually, I removed the ink from his room that day.

The next day, as soon as I opened the door, I was speechless.

Riccardo had wounded himself somewhere and used his blood to draw.

The smell of blood hit me the moment I opened the door, making me feel nauseous, but that was it. Once again, I was captivated by the drawing he had made.

So, I took the foamy brush again and carefully erased the drawing. By now, I could almost memorize the map of the labyrinth.

And that’s when I came up with this terrible plan.

Holding back my weakening heart, I went out to lure Riccardo.

“Ricca, what are you doing?”

He was sitting on a bench in front of the East Wing like a painting, reading a book I had lent him. Fortunately, he wasn’t drawing.

“Don’t call me that.”

Despite his reprimands, I steadfastly called him Ricca, a nickname I used only when we were alone. It felt like a small reward for my efforts. Maybe a bit of self-compensation?

“Why not learn swordplay if you have nothing to do?”

His eyes narrowed at my sudden suggestion.

“Swordplay, all of a sudden?”

“Everything starts suddenly. Come on, let’s go. The weather is perfect for swordplay today.”

I laughed awkwardly and looked up at the sky, where black clouds loomed, threatening rain.

Riccardo clicked his tongue and scowled, but he obediently followed where I led. Then he suddenly stopped.

“Why?”

His gaze was fixed on my hand holding his.

“Do you dislike me holding your hand? I’ve been holding it quite often lately.”

“…No, it’s okay.”

He hesitated for a moment but then shook his head. It was a great concession from someone who used to call me a slave and wouldn’t allow me close.

“Thanks.”

If you disliked even holding hands after all the trouble I’ve gone through for you, then you really have no conscience. But he seemed reluctant still, as he turned his head away when I smiled broadly.

As we appeared at the training ground, Harold approached us.
Harold, without replying, turned around to pick a wooden sword. This was the leverage I had on him. In the kingdom, cutting off the wrist for theft was customary.

Harold, a knight of the Fennel family, had come to the dining hall late after training and witnessed a child stealing bread. The child was the son of a maid working there. True to his kind nature, Harold had pardoned the boy.

After warning the child not to repeat his actions and giving him his own portion of bread, Harold turned around and our eyes met.

Seeing this scene by chance, I decided to use it as an opportunity, driven by desperation.

Of course, I had no intention of actually reporting the child’s wrongdoing, leading to his wrist being cut off.

It wasn’t my initial plan to suppress Riccardo’s artistic soul with such an extreme method.

Riccardo drew anytime, anywhere. Of course, it wasn’t his will.

The night Riccardo began drawing the labyrinth, I entered his room and stole all the tools he could use for drawing.

But the next day, I was forced to despair.

The young artist, obsessed with his art, had turned the entire wall into a canvas, drawing a labyrinth.

Without paint and brushes, he used ink, smudging it with his fingers, creating a drawing so hauntingly beautiful that it could steal one’s soul. But I had to erase that masterpiece myself.

The ink drawing on the glossy wooden wall thankfully came off when scrubbed with a foamy brush. It required several scrubs and a lot of effort to completely remove.

Eventually, I also removed the ink from his room that day.

Why She Is Still Unmoved (Female-dominant)

One-line summary: He uses various methods to seek her affection, but she remains unmoved.

Synopsis:

Si Qingyu is a doctor who has saved countless lives and enjoys tranquility.

Luo Shaoxuan is ruthless, deeply scheming, and the top young master in the capital. He admires Si Qingyu.

Luo Shaoxuan: I want to be the only one in your eyes and heart.

Features a cold and calm female lead vs A noble and scheming male lead.

There will be both sweetness and torture towards the male after their marriage.