Ranson had a good head for learning and acquiring skills. As the deputy director of the art gallery took him around and taught him about facility and artist management, an interesting story came to light.

It was news about those who had led the bullying against him out of jealousy when Ranson was part of the art gallery.

Harvey and Michen, who called him “Big Dog” and picked fights with him at every turn, hadn’t changed their ways even after Ranson moved to Black Swan.

A painter who was talented but couldn’t engage in outside activities due to being a minor left the gallery, unable to endure the bullying.

When it was revealed that Harvey and Michen were the main instigators, the exasperated deputy director tried to expel the entire group of perpetrators, but they pleaded that they had nowhere else to go and promised it wouldn’t happen again, so the matter was dropped.

The one silver lining was that Leodnico, who had been part of their gang, seemed to have come to his senses and was pouring all his efforts into improving his skills. It also appeared he was maintaining a good relationship with Anna.

Though I didn’t see it firsthand, another interesting tidbit was that when Ranson appeared as the Duke of Teravita, Harvey and Michen apparently hinted at their willingness to join the Teravita Art Institute.

They seemed to have completely forgotten their past misdeeds and shamelessly made the suggestion. As expected, Ranson flatly refused, reportedly telling them in a terrifying manner that they should be grateful he hadn’t cut off their livelihood entirely.

It was on one such day, as I was busy hearing various news like this. As I was about to return to the mansion after finishing work, a servant from the mansion came to Black Swan with a letter.

“This is an invitation from the Duke.”

He just delivered the letter and then disappeared, saying he would go ahead. I carefully took out the card from the envelope, inhaling the faint floral scent emanating from it.

The combination of Askal’s handwriting and his unique style of writing gave it the air of a warning letter.

‘What on earth had he been preparing?’

I still had no idea why he had been awake in the early hours, or what it was that wouldn’t disappoint me.

For now, I decided to return to the mansion. When night fell, I would know everything, so I just had to wait a little longer.

Nothing changed from the usual routine just because I had received an invitation. I went out to greet Askal returning from the government office with Rublion, had dinner together, and then took a walk in the dark garden as post-dinner exercise, following our normal routine.

By the time Rublion, who had used up all his energy during the day, had gone to bed early.

I was alone in the marital bedroom, waiting for ten o’clock, when I closed my book with just a few minutes left.

Since the meeting place was the mansion and the person who sent the invitation was my husband, I thought about going in comfortable pajamas, but somehow felt that wouldn’t be right, so I changed into an indoor dress.

When I went up to the third floor of the main building, the designated meeting place, I saw a room with a faint light seeping out amidst the dark corridor. That must be the room Askal mentioned.

I gently pushed the door that was barely open enough for one person to pass through. The room I cautiously entered was a place I had been before.

“I’m here.”

Askal, who was standing in the middle of the room, smiled brightly when he saw me.

With his hair unstyled, naturally covering his forehead, and wearing a loose shirt, he looked like a free-spirited young artist.

“Askal, this is… the room with Tidd’s waterfall mural, right?”

“Yes, my lady.”

He gestured to where I should sit. A tea table with refreshments, seemingly brought from the garden, and even my favorite tea were prepared.

“What’s all this?”

“A small event for you, my lady.”

I sniffed the air. The subtle scent of paint made my heart flutter unknowingly.

“Please let me know if you get tired of watching. I’ll escort you comfortably back to the bedroom.”

Saying that, he picked up a brush from the shelf. It was as thick as two fingers put together.

Askal’s mural work began. Holding the heavy-looking brush in one hand, he slowly started to shape the form of the mountain surrounding Tidd’s waterfall.

‘Oh my…’

The reason for my surprise wasn’t because of his exceptional skill. It was because of the incredibly fast pace at which he was layering the paint.

He used the brush as freely as if he were drawing with his fingers.

Sometimes he even showed off by dramatically raising his arm above his head with a swishing sound, a technique that only someone highly skilled could easily demonstrate.

The areas where his brush passed became as clear as if a dusty glass window had been wiped clean. To put it a bit exaggeratedly, it was hard to tell whether he was painting or taking a photograph.

“Askal…, shouldn’t you have become a painter instead of a lord?”

Askal, who had been working quietly and concentrating, turned around at my words and said,

“I heard that if I become a painter, it would endanger the ecosystem.”

“Who said that?”

“Rublion.”

That’s right. If Askal were to dive into this field, there would be no way to prevent chaos.

“He’s right.”

I became very serious. In the past, I wanted to showcase his talent to the world, but now seeing this, I wondered if this might be a devilish talent that bewitches people.

“You seem like the incarnation of Apollo, the god of art.”

It was the highest praise I could give. He slightly raised the corners of his mouth and said,

“Pleasing you is more important to me than becoming a god.”

He was saying things that would cause a big fuss if heard in church. Yet, I didn’t dislike his words.

I silently watched him work. The sweat on his forehead despite it being winter was incredibly attractive, and the way he sat with his legs slightly apart was sexy.

“Askal. Come here for a moment.”

I decided not to suppress this desire. I couldn’t bear how much I liked him.

Askal put down his brush and approached. Despite moving so busily, not a single drop of paint had stained his white shirt or hands.

“I simply can’t leave you alone, surrounded by the things I love.”

I strode towards him. In an instant, we were close, gazing at each other intensely.

“My lady?”

Askal tilted his head quizzically. I raised my hand, wiggled it slightly, and said,

“Lower your posture and bow your head.”

He obediently followed the command. He lowered his eye level enough for me to grab the back of his head.

“Close your eyes.”

At my soft words, Askal, having grasped the atmosphere, grinned. Then he slowly closed his eyes.

I aggressively grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. I loved him for giving me this ecstatic sight, as if the god of art had descended.

I loved his determination to complete the one-of-a-kind Tidd’s waterfall mural.

Because I knew what this painting meant to him.

Because I knew all too well why he had to put down his brush.

That’s why this moment was so thrilling and made my stomach flutter with joy.

‘Huh? My stomach?’

I, who had been lost in the kiss with my beloved Askal, abruptly broke away at the strange sensation different from usual. He, with a dreamy expression, gently pulled my shoulder as if not wanting me to move away.

“Askal, my stomach…”

His slightly unfocused eyes instantly became alert. He seemed a bit surprised.

“Are you in pain? I’ll call the doctor right away.”

He hurriedly moved the sofa, saying it would be better for me to lie down.

“That’s not it, put your hand here.”

Askal, with eyes full of concern, placed his hand on my lower belly, which was round enough to show that I was pregnant. His face showed worry about whether this was okay.

At that moment.

As if the baby was performing acrobatics, it pushed across my belly horizontally. It was so fascinating, even for me experiencing it for the first time.

“Uh… uh?”

It was the same for Askal. He was frozen in an awkward posture, seemingly unaware, as if all his concentration was focused on his palm.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

At my words, he nodded, still with his hand on my belly. Feeling I should explain, I placed my hand on top of his and said,

“The doctor said it’s about time to feel the baby move. He said it’s evidence that the baby is playing happily, so don’t be too surprised and try speaking to it gently.”

“Gently, you say?”

Askal looked at my belly with a serious expression. Then he sat me down on the sofa, knelt on the floor, and whispered to my belly.

“I am Askal Modesto Artenbach. I am your father.”

I quietly watched as he suddenly introduced himself. Just then, my belly moved again with a flutter.

Askal’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then he responded seriously.

“Yes, I’m pleased to meet you too.”

He moved his hand gently. It was as if he was greeting the baby.

We spent a while on the sofa, talking to the child in my womb. Interestingly, the baby was calm when I spoke, but showed intense reactions when Askal spoke.

“This little one seems to take after Rublion.”

I asked the reason for his firm statement.

“When Rublion was a baby, he would cry whenever I spoke to him. Just like now.”

“Really? Rublion did that?”

Imagining a flustered Askal holding a crying baby and a wailing Rublion was so cute and lovable. I patted the back of his hand, which was still caressing my belly, with a serious look.

“It looks like we’ll have two lovely Rublions. The mansion will be lively.”

Askal shook his head, saying he agreed they would be lovely but couldn’t agree that it would be lively. As he did so, he told me and the baby in my belly just how much of a rascal Rublion had been.