Vecna's POV:
When I said I didn't know how to fasten the belt, Joseph didn't find it strange at all. In fact, it would have been strange if I had known how. He took the belt back from my hands, adjusting it himself as he spoke casually, "You worked hard last night. I really like that birch leaf. It seems you're quite skillful."
I knew he was saying this largely because he remembered his mother's instructions encouraging him to make more effort to understand me but instinctively, I still felt as though he were probing my background. So I curled my lips into a smile and replied, "Yes. When I was young, I spent my days roaming the forests of Moreau. Carving a few small objects was an everyday thing." Then I deliberately added, "I also know how to make wax seals."
Among the capital's nobility, anyone proficient in wax seals was highly regarded for their sense of etiquette and aesthetics, and usually carried a personal seal. Saying this not only suited Joseph's tastes, but more importantly, it served as a perfect stepping stone giving me a legitimate reason to enter his study frequently.
Sure enough, the remark surprised Joseph slightly. He had just finished fastening the belt when he looked up at me. His wife had once been a master of heraldry and noble seals; he had been familiar with this field since childhood. He immediately asked, "Did you study under someone, or at a school, or are you self-taught?"
"I had some instruction, but mostly I taught myself," I answered. "A few years ago, I even managed to make a living outside thanks to crafting wax seals."
The moment I finished speaking, I saw his expression pause for an instant. Then he frowned. "Since our engagement, the Anderson estate has sent people to Crescentspire every year with holiday gifts including cash. At that time, did you still need to rely on wax seals to survive?"
My heart skipped hard. Damn it, I'd forgotten this detail. But I steadied myself immediately and replied calmly, "My grandfather was soft-hearted and easily swayed by flattery. A few sweet words were enough to lure him into gambling. Later, he fell seriously ill and was bedridden; medical expenses alone cost a great deal. He also liked to do charity work, helping the villagers. There was very little money left in the household."
Joseph merely sighed softly and said nothing more. After a moment, he added, "Then tomorrow, try making a small wax seal for me."
Those words were the "hook" I'd been waiting for. If he wanted me to make a seal, he would have to open his study and let me see the seal he usually used, the one representing the Anderson family. More importantly, this meant opening a path for me to freely enter and leave his study.
I smiled, unable to hide my delight. Seeing me happy, Joseph's expression softened as well. Perhaps this was the most peaceful morning we had shared since our marriage.
Once he was fully dressed, he picked up the wooden leaf I had carved and turned back to me, his voice gentle. "It's still early. Get some more sleep." Then he lifted the curtain and stepped out.
I walked him all the way to the corridor before returning to bed, where I slept again until the sun was high.
…
Hearing some movement, the deputy housekeeper came in, drew back the bed curtains, and reported, "Mrs. Vecna, sir has just sent over a treasure and placed it on the tea table. He said it's for madam's enjoyment. Next year, when the birches grow back, he plans to have a few more carvings made very creative as decorations."
I didn't quite understand. Wrapping myself in a robe, I stepped out from behind the screen. On the table beneath the eastern window lay a painting in a wooden frame. It wasn't large, but the moment my eyes touched it, my heart sank slightly.
On the paper was a tranquil lakeside scene. In the distance stretched a birch forest, pale white trunks rising straight toward the sky, thin dark markings like dried ink flecking the bright bark. The canopy was light and tender, painted in layers of color so faint they were almost transparent, like morning dew clinging to the branches. The lake lay still as a mirror, reflecting the leaning shadows of the trees. The brushwork was so light it felt as though a single touch might stir a breeze, set the leaves falling, and ripple the water into hazy rings.
Without excessive detail, just a few strokes were enough to establish the spirit of the entire forest silent, proud, and gently cold. It wasn't a flamboyant beauty, but one that made people instinctively lower their voices before it, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.
I stood frozen for a moment, then asked softly, almost in a whisper, "This painting… did Joseph paint it?"
The deputy housekeeper smiled as she smoothed my hair. "Of course. Shall I have it put away, madam?"
I knew Joseph's paintings were extremely rare. When he first graduated top of his class at university, he had left behind a few works. But after the incident with the Seventh Princess, he never gave anyone another piece of writing or painting. Even when an aunt in the family asked for a sample for young Master Roux to practice handwriting, he refused. And now, he had painted one just for me. Something as rare as the sun rising in the west.
In fact, he had sketched it on the way to the palace, then had someone bring it back as a return gift for the birch leaf I'd given him. Since the princess incident, he had never broken that rule. The first person to receive his brushwork again… was me. Unfortunately, I had no idea.
"No need to put it away," I said. "Leave it as it is. There are still birches in the garden, this afternoon, when I have time, I'll make a stand for the painting."
After that, I washed up and had breakfast. It was still early, so I went out into the courtyard to practice my forms and regulate my breathing. The deputy housekeeper went to the upper quarters. The courtyard was so quiet that when Sixth Young Lady Lizza entered, she thought no one was around.
I saw her first. Stepping out from the corner, I smiled and asked, "Lizza, are you free today? Come to visit?"
She immediately ran over, holding up a brocade box with both hands.
"Here, Sister-in-law Vecna, this is for you."
Joseph was third in rank among the Anderson siblings, so the younger cousins all called him "Third Brother," and calling me "Sister-in-law Vecna" was only natural. I took the box, surprised. "For me?"
Lizza beamed. "You helped my mother vent her anger the other day. I came especially to thank you."
Her mother, Rita Anderson, Third Uncle's wife, had been suppressed by Mrs. William for years. After I dealt with Mrs. William's people, Mrs. William was scolded harshly by Ronen that very night. Rita's close attendants were visibly satisfied.
I had no intention of getting involved in Third Uncle's internal power struggles, but Rita was clever, she deliberately sent her daughter with a gift, publicly establishing her allegiance. From then on, if Mrs. William wanted to make a move against me, she would have to think twice.
I laughed and invited Lizza in for tea.
I led her to the sitting room, where we sat side by side on the sofa. The heater was on, making the room so warm it felt like summer rather than winter. The gentle hum of the heater was like the distant murmur of a small stream.
We hadn't been seated long, I had just sent a servant to brew tea and fetch pastries, when Lizza's eyes caught sight of the wooden-framed painting on the tea table. By the time I turned back, she was already standing frozen before it, eyes wide.
"Sister-in-law Vecna… is this Third Brother's painting?"
I had just finished my Somatic Movement Therapy; my hands were still slightly damp, drying them with a towel as I replied,
"Yes."
Lizza looked at the painting as though it were a priceless treasure. Joseph had been famous for his talent in painting since childhood, his natural gift was extraordinary. Three professors from the Ministry of Education had all once asked to take him on as a student. His style was clean and decisive; every line carried sharp thought and rare aesthetic sense, making it instantly obvious that he was shaped by an elite environment. With such background and ability, it was almost inevitable that he would become the object of countless admirations.
At sixteen, he caught the eye of the Seventh Princess, the only daughter formally acknowledged by the royal family. At her pleading, Empress Luna Leroy personally summoned the Anderson family to the palace to discuss marriage. But Anderson family rules forbade the heir from marrying a princess, and Joseph was already engaged, so they refused. The Seventh Princess flew into a rage and pursued him relentlessly, collecting everything connected to him large items like paintings, small ones like handwritten letters buying them at exorbitant prices. Once, simply because of a signed sketch, she used her authority to force an entire gallery to close overnight, determined to reclaim it at any cost.
From then on, Joseph never let any work or handwriting circulate again. Even Lizza, his own cousin had never obtained one. It was said that every time he finished a painting, he burned it immediately, keeping no original. For years, she had never once seen him hold a brush.
And yet today, that painting was placed right in my room. The brushwork was even more mature than before. No wonder Lizza stood there, admiration and jealousy mingling until she was completely stunned. Then she blurted out,
"Sister-in-law Vecna… this painting… could you give it to me?"