Chapter 57. I Wasn’t Doing Well
Under the bright sunlight, an unusually dark shadow, strikingly prominent, swiftly passed by.
The black shadow, glancing around cautiously, confirmed that no one was nearby and slipped into the stables.
Without hesitation, it approached Ioerenti’s princess’s beloved horse, Luigi.
Startled by the sudden appearance of the shadow, the horse snorted roughly.
“Shh… It’s me.”
Delia silently approached Luigi and gently stroked his nose.
The horse’s rough breathing calmed under the familiar scent and touch.
Seeing Luigi settle, Delia pressed her forehead against his and whispered:
“Have you been well?”
She affectionately asked, running her hand through his shiny mane.
The stable’s characteristic scent seemed to soothe Delia’s excitement.
“I’ve been stuck beside my mother all this time, couldn’t move at all.”
Delia grumbled softly, hurrying to get ready to go out.
She placed a saddle on Luigi’s back and loosened his reins.
Sensing Delia’s silent movements, Luigi snorted more softly than before.
“I snuck out just now, so don’t make any noise, Luigi.”
Delia’s clear voice, laced with barely contained excitement, whispered to the horse.
Although she had stayed obediently for her mother’s sake, that didn’t mean she didn’t want to see him.
Moreover, her father had told her that their betrothal had received unanimous approval from the council.
It was practically official.
How it got approved, whether he had trouble adjusting, how the wedding preparations would go—there were so many things she wanted to ask him.
The pent-up anticipation and excitement naturally accompanied her steps.
“Let’s quickly go to the workshop together.”
The Pichern Workshop, sponsored by the royal family, wasn’t far from the palace.
Seeing that her mother visited frequently, her father had moved the workshop closer to the palace.
By carriage, it was a 30-minute ride, but on horseback, she could halve that time.
As she calculated the time and led the horse out of the stables, a voice from behind froze her in place.
“Where are you going?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden call.
“Mom!”
A small scream of panic slipped from Delia’s lips as she tried to escape without her mother noticing.
Startled, she quickly turned around.
Seeing who it was, she exhaled in relief.
“Oh, Jer.”
As usual, Jer, dressed neatly in the uniform of Ioerenti’s Royal Guard, stopped Delia.
“Where are you going alone?”
“Well… uh…”
Delia paused briefly, straightening her posture as if to maintain her dignity as a princess.
She composed herself and answered calmly:
“I’m going to the Pichern Workshop.”
“The workshop?”
“I need to check something for the portrait.”
Jer’s eyes narrowed at her unreasonable explanation.
At a time like this? The princess herself?
Yet, he couldn’t possibly stop her.
Jer exhaled carefully and spoke in a low voice:
“I will accompany you. I’ll get a horse, so please wait a moment.”
Just as Jer was about to leave to fetch a horse, Delia desperately stopped him.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to come. I’ll go alone.”
“The Imperial Army is still patrolling the capital. It could be dangerous for you to move alone.”
At Jer’s worried words, Delia’s serious expression softened into a bright smile.
“That’s why it’s safe.”
If it’s the commander’s men, they’ll protect me.
They had been the ones who stopped her from being killed when she attacked while captured.
They had held their blades back to avoid touching her.
There was no way a place with Imperial soldiers could be dangerous.
“Princess.”
Waving gently at the concerned Jer, Delia said:
“It’s fine. I’ve gone alone before.”
“But given the situation, you must be careful.”
“What’s there to worry about if Ioerenti’s princess is walking around Ioerenti’s land? Step back and don’t worry.”
At Delia’s command, Jer hesitated for a moment, then stepped back.
She looked at Jer, the captain of Ioerenti’s Royal Guard, obediently following her orders with blue eyes.
If he’s part of the Ioerenti army, he would naturally follow her command. Just like Jer.
“I can manage alone. You stay here.”
Delia held the handle attached to the saddle confidently.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Delia lightly placed her foot in the stirrup and climbed onto Luigi’s back.
Her cloak flapped in the wind as if she were about to fly.
Pulling the reins skillfully, she spurred Luigi forward.
The light, swift clatter of his hooves disappeared through the palace’s back gates.
The dust she stirred enveloped the lone Jer, mingling with her subtle scent.
Jer’s gaze darkened as he watched the princess of Ioerenti fade into the distance.
Crossing the city, Delia arrived at the Pichern Workshop and stopped her horse.
Her soft footsteps on the ground made the flowers sway, scattering their scent.
Delia removed her hood and looked around.
The sunlit garden of the workshop came into view.
She tied Luigi’s reins to a wooden post and stepped forward.
“Commander…”
Or… should I call him Regent now?
Delia’s face lit up with a smile like a peach blossom as she wondered what to call him.
She couldn’t wait to tease him with his new nickname.
Excited, she crossed the garden, her blue eyes scanning for him.
Where could he be?
Her cloak fluttered like butterfly wings as she lightly walked.
Her excitement slowly faded, her steps becoming calmer.
Each step felt heavier, as if a weight were added to her ankles.
“Where is everyone?”
It was eerily quiet.
Unlike the usual workshop, the calm atmosphere made her instinctively shrink.
It felt like stepping into another world.
Over the small fountain’s water, the sound of birds layered like gentle music.
But there were no human voices.
The workshop, usually bustling with members, apprentices, and hopeful students, was unusually silent today.
“That’s strange.”
Those present had probably been called to the palace by her mother.
But still, not everyone could be gone.
Delia tilted her head in puzzlement, tiptoeing to keep her footsteps quiet.
In a corner of the garden stood a pristine marble, just as it had been brought from the mountain.
Unfinished torsos, lower-body-less busts, and slabs sketched for reliefs lay scattered.
Fine dust floated in the sunlight.
Delia carefully passed through the garden, feeling the strange atmosphere.
“Why is no one here?”
Shivering from the eerie feeling, she didn’t stop walking.
Surely he should be here.
Even as she entered the hall of the building, no human presence could be sensed.
It was as if everyone had turned into statues, with only unfinished sculptures standing around.
The scent of varnish mixed with the swaying hem of her dress.
Her breathing slowed.
“Where could he be?”
All the sculptures seemed to be watching her.
Eyeless sculptures, unfamiliar gazes on canvases.
With no people, countless invisible eyes clung to her skin, making her shrink.
“Tch… I don’t have much time.”
Muttering softly, Delia walked faster past the unfinished works.
She searched from the supply storage to the resting area.
But the person she wanted to see wasn’t there.
“Did our paths cross?”
Disappointment shimmered in her blue eyes.
Her lips, faintly smiling, tightened.
Delia slowly scanned the rest area, unwilling to give up.
“If he’s not here, he’s not here.”
From the entrance to the farthest room, everything was empty.
Long empty sofas, tables scattered with art supplies, blank canvases on easels—no trace of him.
Feeling a pang of loneliness, Delia stroked a brush on the table.
“Ha… I’m such a fool.”
She moved a dry brush haphazardly across the table, as if expressing her disappointment.
“I should have confirmed the location before rushing here.”
Assuming the portrait would be drawn here, she hadn’t thought about it.
Come to think of it, he had no connection to this workshop.
Why didn’t I think to check?
“I should have asked Meredith… Now what? Where do I find him?”
Feeling helpless, Delia pressed the brush down so hard the table nearly broke.
If the royal chief painter Perugino saw this, he’d gasp—but Delia was merely expressing her emotions with the brush as she had learned.
Every stroke added an invisible layer of regret.
“There’s nothing I can do today. I’ll just return to the palace.”
She muttered weakly, turning to leave.
Suddenly, the brush slipped from her hand.
“Ah!”
Her startled scream echoed through the silent workshop.
Delia was enveloped in arms deeper and firmer than the workshop building.
“Hello, Princess.”
At the low, gentle greeting, her eyes closed instinctively.
The scent of his body penetrated her neck, barely masked by the varnish.
Her tense body melted under his warm breath.
As she staggered backward, he caught her against his chest.
“Have you been well?”
His low voice resonated directly in her mind.
His moist, low breath settled on her neck.
Her skin trembled at the waves of air he created.
“Mm…”
A thin moan slipped from her parted lips.
She thought they’d miss each other.
She thought it was a wasted trip.
Unprepared, facing him so suddenly, she crumbled instantly.
“You’ve been well, Princess.”
Aaron whispered low, inhaling as if to drink her very skin.
“I wasn’t doing well…”
Aaron bent toward Delia, as if seeking revenge, and nibbled her earlobe.
“Ah!”
The sensation made her spine shiver, and her body curled.
Her trembling was transmitted directly to Aaron’s chest.
“Why?”
Her barely audible breath carried the heated question.
“Why weren’t you doing well?”
