It’s not like Violet couldn’t understand her at all. Even she had to get permission from Duke Everett when she first started painting.
As she watched the young lady’s face flush with bewilderment, Violet idly traced the rim of her cup with her finger. A smile bloomed on her lips.
“What do you think is the biggest obstacle when attempting something new?”
“That, of course…”
“Money.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s not about whether you fail or succeed. Ah, the outcome is important, of course. If you start a business with a large investment and it fails, you’ll need what to recover? Money again.”
“……”
It was an understatement to say that Lady Shwarze did not expect this conversation to swing over to this direction. Her eyes widened.
“So, if you have money and enough funds to recover from failure, there’s no need to fear trying.”“…What do you mean?”
“What I’m saying is this— You could sell just a couple of the ornaments you’re wearing and have enough to write your fairy tales.”
Violet continued calmly.
Actually, there was no particular reason she wanted to meet this young lady who had so blatantly displayed her inferiority complex.
She just found her more interesting than those who hid their inferiority behind a façade.
Though Lady Shwarze’s envy was stark, so was her admiration. Violet decided to find her behavior endearing.
“Is the world really that easy for you?”
Lady Shwarze gritted her teeth as she looked at Violet. The corners of Violet’s lips curled up higher.
“Do you think I got to where I am easily?”
“……”
Her words carried a certain weight.
Lady Shwarze couldn’t know if Violet had an easy life or not. She wasn’t Violet.
However, she assumed that someone like Violet—who seemed to live freely with wealth and power—must have led an easy life thus far.
While Lady Shwarze was feeling confused, Violet smiled again and spoke.
“Give it a try.”
“…Why?”
“If you’re going to regret it whether you try or not, it’s better to try and then regret it. You’ll regret whatever choice you make anyway, right?”
“……”
“There are many ways to try—write and submit your work, or compile your pieces into a book and go down the road of self-publishing. If your family opposes it, do it secretly and anonymously behind their backs. Or, you can try after you get married.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“But you’re already considering trying, aren’t you?”
“……”
A weak smile fell from the lady’s lips.
“You’re right. Not trying and still regretting it would be too unfair.”
Finally, she showed a relieved smile.
Only then did Violet understand what the empress had wished for.
That Alesia noticed this first made a bitter smile cross Violet’s lips. She thought she was perceptive, but she realized she needed to sharpen her skills further.
.
.
.
Later down the road, in a future perhaps near or far, a certain noble lady of the empire would ask to meet Violet once again to request illustrations for her written work. It is yet to be known to either of them that these illustrated stories would be passed down to children for generations to come.
* * *
Ever since that day’s spontaneous meeting, Violet gave much more thought to the exhibition she was preparing.
It wasn’t a large exhibition. From the start, there weren’t many paintings to display.
Moreover, Violet didn’t have much time to dedicate to the exhibition.
She was busy enough as it was completing the crown prince’s portrait and attending necessary social gatherings, but she also had to continue working on her private paintings and thinking of titles and descriptions for them.
The biggest problem—Aileen’s presence at every social event she attended notwithstanding—was one particular thing.
She couldn’t explain the paintings she had worked on previously.
More precisely, she couldn’t recall the emotions she had while painting them.
She knew she painted them in a state of depression—that feeling of misery pulling her down… down to the bottom of a lake. Each and every stroke of paint carried these emotions heavily.
However, the exact feelings and what she wanted to express were now vague to her.
Even now, she could feel that same misery weighing down on her as she looked at the paintings she made from the time she first picked up the brush.
In a primarily dark blue color palette and with many bizarre expressions, it was clear why they had been called the paintings of a demon or a witch.
Violet closed her eyes while contemplating her paintings.
As time passed, the colors in her paintings became more vivid.
Muted colors turned into more saturated ones, and rough brush strokes became more refined.
At the same time, the emotions of the painter were transparently visible all throughout.
Of course, even with bright colors and clear execution, the paintings still held such oddity by this era’s standards.
Violet narrowed her eyes.
There were a few paintings she needed to exclude. She didn’t understand why these unfinished works and practice pieces were being displayed in the manor’s private gallery.
She couldn’t recall the emotions or motivations behind those paintings either.
Of course, it wasn’t an urgent issue at the moment.
In the future, art historians might add various reasons to make them significant, but for now, they were just sentimental possessions—nothing more, nothing less.
Therefore, Violet kept the explanations simple.
She picked up her brush, painted, poured her emotions into the work, and tried to remember why she had painted it.
Much had changed. Both herself and her surroundings.
And much more would change in the future.
Violet smiled softly as she walked out of the gallery.
While the preparations for the exhibition were progressing slowly, the Founding Festival was approaching quickly.
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