“17. The Culprit Who Pretended to Be a Lover”
“Why did you like this painting, Damion?”
At Ansi’s question, he swallowed dryly.
It was nothing special. He had merely realized that even this dry, expressionless woman had something she was interested in.
No—he had already known through prior research that this woman liked stars. It was just that now, he was experiencing that fact more vividly.
Damion smiled faintly, as if nothing was wrong.
“It’s probably a silly reason.”
“I won’t laugh.”
Ansi was now staring at him. After a moment of hesitation, Damion opened his mouth.
“Because it reminded me of the night sky we saw after escaping the maze.”
The words were meant for her, but they weren’t untrue.
Damion’s gaze lingered on her jet-black hair, then moved to her wide eyes, then to her softly closed lips.
Was she going to deflect the topic? She was a woman who wasn’t immune to sentimental words.
However, her reply was unexpected.
“That night remains very memorable for me too. I’ve seen countless night skies, but it was probably the first time I looked up at one with you.”
Damion found himself momentarily speechless.
It might have been the first time he heard something so direct from her.
He smiled deliberately and said, “…That makes me happy.”
“I think we’ll make a lot more memories like that.”
“I believe so too.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Ansi smiled gently.
Damion felt a strange flutter in his chest at that simple word—looking forward to it.
It was strange.
“I heard you’re good at appreciating art. Would you mind if I joined you?”
She asked while looking around the exhibition hall.
Had she investigated me?
Interest and curiosity. Good signs when discovering love. And since he did have an objective eye for art, it was a good chance to appeal to her.
But for some reason, he didn’t want to.
Foolishly so.
“I’m not very knowledgeable about paintings.”
His voice came out flat.
“Don’t you collect them as a hobby? I heard the paintings you’ve bought are quite valuable.”
“That’s just luck. When I buy art, it’s rarely for technical brilliance. It’s usually because it evokes a personal memory or just gives me a good feeling.”
That wasn’t the proper way to consume art in this country. Most people at this exhibit were raving about refined techniques or detailed expression. Others preferred paintings so deep they couldn’t be interpreted.
A personal memory was an unprofessional, unimpressive reason. Not something that would appeal to others.
But he had no choice. Unlike his brother, he’d never been formally taught how to appreciate art.
His first exposure to art had simply been wandering the halls of the duke’s mansion alone, staring at paintings. That’s how he developed his taste—untrained, of course.
Yet Ansi tilted her head and spoke in her usual dry tone.
“Isn’t that a good reason?”
“…You think so?”
“Whether it’s a painting or a photograph, they’re all moments captured in time. If a single image can resurrect different memories for different lives, I think that’s a value nothing else can match.”
…Was that so?
Damion slowly nodded, chewing over her words without even realizing it. Her quiet, casual comment had gently overturned something he had taken for granted.
“And if someone besides you and me also took notice of this painting, it must mean your taste isn’t bad at all.”
Ansi’s gaze landed on the little sold sticker beside the painting—proof that Damion had bought it.
He stifled a laugh and nodded calmly.
“That’s a relief.”
Damion stepped beside her. The odd flutter from earlier had already faded.
They naturally began walking together.
As they walked slowly, she calmly observed the paintings. Landscapes of the capital, portraits of unknown people, still lifes of flower vases—countless works passed through her eyes and disappeared.
And when a certain lakeside painting filled her gaze, Damion, looking at the lake through her deep eyes, asked:
“There’s going to be a boat party on the Benew River in a few days. Will you be my partner?”
Ansi turned to look at him.
In her large, blue eyes, he could now see his reflection.
Click.
The sound of the minute hand echoed in the store. Ansi, who had been reading a book, looked up at the clock on the wall.
6 o’clock. Still two hours left until Madam Roma was due to return.
“Watch the store for me, Ansi. I won’t charge you rent for this month in return.”
There was no reason to refuse. And so, she had spent the whole day guarding the place.
Everything here was a precious item. They all looked new, but none were truly new.
This was essentially a pawn shop for the upper class.
People came here when they needed quick cash, didn’t want to wear the same necklace twice, or wanted to get rid of gifts from ex-lovers. Items of all kinds arrived here for all kinds of reasons.
If there are good items, customers will gather. Add to that some exclusivity and decent word of mouth, and it becomes the perfect combination. As a result, Madam Roma’s shop had attracted many high-class secret customers.
As Ansi was about to lower her head again, a sparkling necklace in the glass display caught her eye. Staring at it, she touched the base of her neck.
It felt bare.
Would it be better to accessorize for the boat party?
Damion had sent her a few gifts. At the very least, he seemed willing to do that much for her right now.
But she couldn’t rely only on his goodwill. She had to stay cautious—who knew when his feelings might change? She needed to make her own efforts so he wouldn’t lose interest.
“That night remains very memorable for me too.”
“I heard you’re good at appreciating art.”
Ansi had mimicked that steam locomotive of a man, saying unnecessary things and carefully researching him. The reason she had gone to the exhibition in the first place was because she expected he’d be there.
He said he liked art, so of course he’d attend. And he’d treat their encounter like fate.
It seemed her efforts worked—he had asked her to be his partner for the boat party. Fortunately, his heart hadn’t changed.
That was when—
Ding.
The bell on the store’s door rang.
A man walked in.
Customers here usually sent servants or came with their faces hidden in hats and scarves. They didn’t want it known they were buying secondhand items.
But this red-haired young man either didn’t know that unspoken rule—or didn’t care—and walked in with his face fully exposed.
“Oh…!”
He stopped at the entrance and stared at Ansi with wide eyes. He seemed to recognize her, but she didn’t recognize him.
He must’ve seen me in the newspaper, she thought.
“Are you… running this store?”
“No, just watching it for a bit.”
“Ah.” The man nodded and glanced around cautiously. Then he walked straight up to Ansi.
He pulled something from his inner pocket and asked suspiciously:
“Then do you know who sold this?”
Ansi’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
The item he held out was a fountain pen. A very familiar one.
“Did you buy that, sir?”
“Well, through someone else, kind of. Anyway, who sold this?”
“I did.”
Ansi answered calmly. And at that, the red-haired young man—Henette de Maron—gasped in shock.
Ansi de Lubelsa was the woman pretending to be his secret lover?
“Where did you get it? No, more importantly—why would you do that?”
Henette began throwing out questions in a panic. But Ansi remained unshaken. Her reply was bold and firm.
“I don’t have to tell you where I got it. I figured I’d gain more by selling it than using it.”
“Wha…?”
Damion!
Are you really okay with this? A woman who pretends to be someone’s lover just to benefit herself?
Henette’s thoughts were in chaos. Damion was a smart guy, sure, but he probably didn’t know about this. But if he told him, wouldn’t that just cause trouble?
Henette didn’t even consider the possibility that he was the one who’d given the pen to Ansi—when he had carelessly lent it to Damion at the club.
“I suffered a lot because you sold this.”
“Did you pay a high price for it? I didn’t sell it for that much.”
“It’s not about the money…”
She didn’t even seem to know who he was. Had she claimed to be his lover without even knowing what Henette de Maron looked like?
Henette decided he needed to find out what kind of person this woman really was.
“Um, can I sit here for a bit?”
“There’s a café across the street.”
“I’ll buy this. While I decide whether to buy that other thing too.”
“Do as you wish.”
Henette bought a tiepin and sat on the shop’s sofa, staring at Ansi.
She lowered her gaze and started reading again. In the now quiet shop, only the ticking of the clock could be heard.
What kind of woman was she?
Henette narrowed his eyes as he watched Ansi.
