Unfortunately, another miracle… did not occur.

The Emperor’s brows furrowed slightly as he received the results of the second competition.

“The winner is Lady Grace of the Le Sang Grand Ducal family.”

Kyle, the aide, continued speaking while observing the Emperor, who had his eyes closed and showed no reaction.

“Today’s subject was a still life painting of flowers in a vase and fruits on the table. It was a very favorable competition for Lady Grace, who has studied under the master artist Professor Belvoir for years.”

The Emperor, seemingly lost in thought while tapping his long fingers on the table, remained silent.

As Kyle mouthed something to Antonio, the Second Chief Secretary, Antonio hesitantly began to speak.

“The ladies’ works are scheduled to be displayed in the Second Gallery corridor of the Imperial Palace for one day tomorrow. But… um, the aide and I saw the ladies’ works being moved from the competition venue in advance… so, well…”

Antonio sent a pleading look to Kyle for help, but Kyle turned his head, deliberately ignoring him.

Antonio took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly, and said,

“Our concern is that Lady Arabel’s work is so different in nature from the other ladies’ that we’re worried.”

Saying it was different in nature was a very beautified way of putting it… Arabel’s work was incomparably poor compared to the other candidates who had built up their painting skills under the guidance of famous artists since childhood.

Frankly, when Kyle and Antonio first saw Arabel’s work, they couldn’t even imagine that she had painted the flowers and fruits set on the table. Kyle thought Arabel had drawn a dragon spewing fire, while Antonio thought she had drawn a snake swallowing a frog.

The judges also seemed very perplexed. It was obvious that she would be embarrassed if her work were to be exhibited alongside the other candidates’ works.

The Emperor, who had been sitting quietly tapping his long fingers on the table, opened his eyes, revealing ruby-colored irises.

“I understand. Let’s go.”

“To the competition venue? There shouldn’t be anyone there now. How about going to the gallery where they’re preparing the exhibition?”

As Kyle asked the Emperor who was rising from his seat, the Emperor turned to him and said as he headed for the door,

“I meant let’s go to the reception room, Aide Kyle. Isn’t it time to meet with the delegations from the kingdoms over the Western Continent trade route dispute? The crown prince of Marcus Cadel, who came as the representative of the delegation, is not someone to be taken lightly. If he continues to refuse to bow his head to the Empire, we must ensure he never succeeds to the throne. Do you understand?”

Kyle and Antonio, meeting the Emperor’s cold red eyes, seemed to come to their senses and hurriedly followed behind him.

After carrying out a murderous work schedule from dawn, the Emperor called an emergency meeting close to midnight that wasn’t on his schedule for today.

Thump, thump, the sound of measured footsteps echoed weightily from the entrance of the Second Gallery corridor on the west side of the Imperial Palace.

Twelve men and women, looking as if they had hurriedly come to the palace just as they were about to retire for the night, greeted the approaching Emperor. The master artists representing the Empire’s art world, including Professor Belvoir, all bowed their heads to him.

The Emperor’s figure, walking in the light of the chandeliers, was beautifully dignified yet exuded the strength of a raw male. His ruby-like eyes, which could be as noble as precious gems one moment and bloodthirsty the next, smiled languidly at them. His highly saturated red lips, with one corner turned up, created shadows in the chandelier light and darkness of the night, making him breathtakingly alluring.

The casual everyday clothes he had changed into after removing his formal uniform further accentuated his slender and superior physique. The silhouette of finely woven muscles moved seductively under the thin tunic shirt, and his long legs with firm thighs looked dynamically splendid even just standing still.

The Emperor in the secluded night looked somehow dangerous and decadent, causing the masters before him to unconsciously swallow dry saliva. Inwardly lamenting the fact that they didn’t have brushes and canvases by their side.

Surprisingly, as if the Emperor had sensed their thoughts, he raised one hand low with a gentle smile. As his signal fell, in the blink of an eye, canvases about half the size of a door and art supplies including charcoal, brushes, and paints were prepared in front of the masters.

The Emperor opened his mouth to the painters who were looking at him with puzzled expressions.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t allowed my portrait to be painted until now.”

That’s right. Maxwell was an Emperor who thought it more useful to spar with knights in the training grounds rather than sit as a model for portraits. Moreover, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of someone ‘daring’ to ‘evaluate’ his portrait.

He, who had disregarded the pleas of the Imperial Historical Records Office and all the masters,

“I’ve been too inconsiderate of your feelings. So tonight, I permit you to paint my portrait.”

With an arrogant look in his eyes, Maxwell struck the most basic pose for a full-body imperial portrait.

As the artists stood with their mouths open, unable to believe the Emperor’s words, Aide Kyle approached and whispered softly,

“Please pick up the charcoal.”

The masters, still looking dazed as if wondering if this situation was a dream, each picked up a charcoal stick in their hands.

The Emperor seductively said as he leisurely unbuttoned the top three buttons of his tunic shirt with his long fingers,

“This is your first and last chance. Begin.”

The masters, suddenly wide awake at the Emperor’s smile that exuded an intoxicatingly strong male scent, began to capture his image on canvas one after another. They even felt a thrill at the sight of the Emperor, who revealed his beauty without any shame or awkwardness.

For the artists, the Emperor actively struck various poses, making them wonder how they had endured until now.

By the time dawn arrived and the morning sun began to rise… the Emperor’s image was perfectly reproduced on canvas in various poses, wearing several outfits, from busts and half-body portraits to full-body portraits.

The artists who had stayed up all night put down their brushes, wiping the sweat from their foreheads with towels.

Tears welled up in their eyes as the twelve masterpieces they had created with all their heart and soul shone brilliantly in the rising sunlight.

The morning after the second competition, eleven beautifully dressed imperial consort candidates arrived at the entrance of the Second Gallery on the west side of the Imperial Palace, escorted by their maids.

Already at the gallery entrance, numerous invited imperial family members and upper-class nobles were lined up waiting to enter.

The eyes of the nobles gathered to view the candidates’ works sparkled with excitement. It wasn’t due to the expectation of seeing good works. They were entirely focused on whose work they would disparage and undervalue with their shallow knowledge to spread rumors in high society.

Honestly, except for Grace and one or two other ladies who had been educated under masters for years, it was obvious that their skills would be mediocre. The work they were now looking for with blazing eyes was not an excellent piece, but the one with the least skill. That way, they could gleefully tear it apart and gossip about it in social gatherings.

The corners of Grace’s mouth, who had taken her place at the entrance, turned up arrogantly. Although it was a bit late, she would finally prove her true worth now.

Her lips twisted as she lowered her gaze to look at the smallest and most petite woman standing at the very back of the candidates. Rather than the joy of victory, her whole body trembled with excitement at the thought of that girl being humiliated.

Poor painting skills don’t just end with humiliation. The Empress is the face representing the Empire’s culture and art world. One of the Empress’s responsibilities, discovering and debuting new artists, attracting and exhibiting the greatest masters and masterpieces of the era, is not just a cultural activity but a battle of pride between empires and kingdoms, and has a significant impact on the economy as well.

The country bumpkin in front who couldn’t even express the composition of a still life would be the laughingstock of high society for a long time, and even if she became Empress, she would be doubted of her qualifications and unable to voice her own opinions. Like the 19th and 22nd Empresses who were humiliated by their poor artistic skills at the competition exhibition.

When Grace’s eyes met those of Grand Duchess Caroline approaching the gallery entrance, she gave a confident smile. The lips of Empress Dowager Natalia, walking alongside Grand Duchess Caroline, were also curved in satisfaction.

Although it was bitter that Grace had won the second competition, it was a good opportunity. As soon as the people invited to today’s special viewing left the palace gates, they would claim Arabel’s lack of qualification and completely forget the results of the previous competition. The Grand Duchess and I have mobilized all our connections to make sure of that.

As the Grand Duchess and Empress Dowager exchanged sinister glances,

“Please enter.”

With a courteous voice, the heavy copper doors of the gallery swung open on both sides.

The dozens of pairs of eyes entering to bury one candidate widened and began to shake wildly the moment they stepped into the gallery corridor. Not a single one of them turned their gaze to the works of the eleven candidates.

More accurately, their works didn’t even catch anyone’s eye. Everyone’s attention in the gallery was poured onto twelve works by the Empire’s greatest masters.

There was only one protagonist in the works. Emperor Maxwell, who had never allowed a portrait before.

The Emperor’s portraits, expressed by the brushes of the current top painters, were breathtakingly beautiful and even moving.

Next to each candidate’s work was displayed a masterpiece, long overshadowed and losing presence, barely noticeable.

Moreover, compared to the notebook-sized canvases used by the ladies, the masters’ works were about half the size of a normal door, nearly five times larger, overwhelming their works from the start.

Grace’s work, displayed next to her teacher Professor Belvoir’s life masterpiece, looked relatively sloppy and childish in comparison.

In particular, no one in the gallery even glanced at the eleventh lady’s work. People were too busy etching the Emperor’s half-naked full-body portrait hanging next to her work deep into their minds to pay attention to other works.

Groans escaped from between the lips of women looking at the Emperor, who looked as if he had descended from the celestial realm, lying diagonally with his lower body barely covered by leopard skin.

Even the Empress Dowager had to calm her rapid breathing while languidly gazing at the densely woven biceps connected to the valiant deltoids and the vast, firm pectorals like an ocean expressed in the Emperor’s full-body portrait, without even thinking of looking for Arabel’s work.

After the day’s special viewing ended and people returned home, no one talked about the candidates’ works. Because no one could remember the ladies’ works.

“Have this work moved to Lady Arabel’s annex and hung on the wall opposite her bed.”

In the empty gallery corridor late in the afternoon, the Emperor pointed with his chin at one work.

It was the half-naked full-body portrait of the Emperor hanging next to Arabel’s work.

“And hang the lady’s work in my reception room”

The Emperor smiled approvingly as he looked at Arabel’s painting before heading to his office.

Turning to Kyle, who seemed to have something to say, he raised one corner of his mouth and said,

“I certainly kept my promise to the lady not to give any help in the competition. Today’s event was after the competition ended, so it’s absolutely not breaking the promise.”

Unable to voice the question ‘I wonder if Lady Arabel will think the same…?’, Aide Kyle hurriedly followed behind the Emperor, who was striding down the corridor with long steps.