Chapter 15
Not long ago, Cassian had instructed the butler to obtain medicine for Yurisiel’s birth mother.
Since then, the butler had been running around tirelessly trying to fulfill that order.
Fortunately, the lord’s personal physician—driven by his own health paranoia and the lord’s obsession with immortality—was a highly educated man from the capital.
Of course, he was still far inferior to Blanchet’s own physician, but he managed to give a fairly convincing diagnosis.
That was only possible because he had secretly and repeatedly observed the patient. Human beings are often strongest in times of crisis, and the butler’s desperate efforts had produced results.
“According to the physician, the lady’s mother is suffering from a rare illness called Raymok.”
Raymok. Cassian remembered reading that name in a newspaper once.
“They say it can be treated if caught in time. But if the window for treatment is missed, the outcome isn’t good.”
Back when the disease was more widespread, it had claimed many lives. Yet many high-ranking nobles had survived.
In short, those with wealth had a way to survive.
That thought made Cassian lean back lazily.
“Find it. A way to cure her.”
His tone was dry, almost dismissive, but unmistakably commanding.
The butler wanted to protest, to ask how on earth he was supposed to find such a cure, but he swallowed the urge and bowed silently.
As he turned to leave the suffocating room, the young master added a cold, cutting order behind him.
“Oh, and get that fraud out of the village.”
“Excuse me?”
“That quack.”
“On what grounds…?”
The butler blinked in confusion at the sudden command.
Had the young master developed a personal grudge against that doctor? It wasn’t even unusual for a doctor treating commoners to be less than competent.
Still, the idea of destroying someone’s job and livelihood with a few casual words made the butler smile awkwardly in discomfort.
Cassian, meanwhile, delivered the final blow.
“Criminals deserve punishment. Don’t you agree?”
It was an order to expel him from the estate.
To be fair, the man was a criminal in a way. He exploited the desperate and ignorant, selling them false hope in exchange for money.
And since lives were involved, the seriousness of the crime couldn’t be ignored.
Even so, Cassian’s innocent smile as he gave the order didn’t make him look like a good person.
But by now, the butler understood—this was the kind of man Blanchet raised.
He offered no further resistance and left without another word.
Standing at the doorway was the cause of all today’s trouble.
Yurisiel.
She entered with a calm expression, not knowing what fate awaited her. The butler let out a small sigh as he guided her inside.
As usual, Yurisiel brewed the tea and placed it on Cassian’s table, then took her seat across from him.
Just like every other time, Cassian silently stared at her and began to sketch.
It had been a month since this strange routine began.
She still remembered the shame she’d felt the first time she sat in this chair.
It happened every time.
The fact that her face was being captured in those sketches always made her uncomfortable.
Being ordered to sit there, letting him interpret her appearance however he wanted—it was all deeply unpleasant.
Still, it wasn’t difficult to endure.
Just thinking of her mother was enough to give her strength.
If she emptied her mind and simply stared into space, the only sound filling the suffocating room was the scratch of the pen on paper.
She knew that drawing was a popular hobby among noblemen.
But court painters—or the children of prestigious families who dabbled in art—typically focused on still life or landscapes.
Portraits were harder to draw and weren’t even considered that noble a pastime. At least not in the Empire.
Of course, there must be those whose talents naturally leaned toward portraiture.
If Cassian was one of them, she had no right to complain.
But after seeing his drawings, Yurisiel had many things she wanted to say.
He spent hours sketching, layering strokes again and again, but the final product was always just a chaotic mess of clumsy lines.
That was all his sketchbook ever contained.
And yet he would proudly place them on the table, as if they were her portrait.
Was he trying to insult her? To humiliate her? She couldn’t even guess his motives.
But one thing was certain.
He didn’t care about how she felt.
To him, she was just another subject for his amusement.
There were plenty of things to draw—flower vases, colorful blooms, neatly arranged teacups on a silver tray, the elegantly woven Blanchet-crest tapestry.
But he had chosen her. For one reason only.
To enjoy her reactions. Like someone toying with a doll.
Her suspicions grew stronger with each passing day.
Of course, it was something she could ignore.
She had expected this from the moment she agreed to take this job.
Compared to scrubbing dishes until her hands bled or doing work meant for rough old men, this was far easier.
All she had to do was sit in front of him like a doll.
And yet, for some reason, that simple task felt like the hardest thing in the world.
It wounded her pride in ways she couldn’t explain.
It was almost ridiculous.
How could she feel this humiliated in a place so much more comfortable than where she had once been called a fatherless girl, a worthless child, a vulgar girl who would never become anything?
Cassian had never said such things to her—not even once.
But that was probably because he believed she was the daughter of the noble House of Bilrod.
Still, every moment spent in this seat felt like punishment to Yurisiel.
Every time she sat here, what little pride she had left would rise up like a thorn, scratching at her from the inside.
And as her discomfort quietly built up, the distance between her and the young master—already wide—grew even greater.
Whenever his gaze lifted from the sketchbook and landed on her, she instinctively looked away.
Just like now.
Today, his eyes felt even more direct and invasive. Yurisiel could hardly bear it—she wanted to escape it with all her strength.
She had to get away from that gaze—so proud and beautiful, like the sun itself.
But no matter how hard she tried, Cassian always noticed. He never missed it.
A faint, sharp smile curled at his lips.
He looked like a predator who had just found an entertaining new prey.
“Where are you looking?”
Only then did Yurisiel slowly turn her face back toward him.
Her pale pink lips were pressed tightly together in silent protest.
She looked like she was trying her best to hold back her frustration. Her lips trembled slightly as if she were swallowing her anger.
Then, with a trace of courage gathered from somewhere deep inside, she spoke—clear and bold.
“How much longer do I have to keep doing this?”
“What’s the matter? Is sitting still too much for you now?”
His mocking tone made it obvious—was she really complaining when all she had to do was sit there for a good wage?
That sneer was all it took to stir up everything Yurisiel had been holding inside.
“You’re not even drawing me.”
“Then what do you think I’m drawing?”
“You’d know that better than I do.”
She felt like someone else had taken over her voice. These were words she never would’ve dared to say before.
But now, everything she had ignored while desperately searching for the medicine became painfully clear.
The way one corner of Cassian’s mouth always lifted slightly. The way he looked down on her, cool and detached. The way his eyes sparkled with amusement…
All things she had tried so hard to overlook. But now, she couldn’t anymore.
Still, Yurisiel shut her eyes tightly.
Because the only thing that could keep her going was the image of her mother—once again coughing up blood today.
When Hael first gave her the medicine, she truly believed there was hope. That she could save her mother.
But with each passing day, that hope faded more and more.
The medicine didn’t seem to work—at least not on her mother.
It helped with the pain. Her mother said it hurt less now. That she was fine.
But every time she coughed, that dark red blood still poured from her lips.
Maybe today she’ll feel better. Maybe today there will be some progress.
She repeated that to herself every single day. And that’s how she made it this far.
At the very least, she had to hold on until she could repay her debt to Hael.
Hael had told her she didn’t need to, but to Yurisiel, carrying a debt was unbearable.
If she accepted that, it would be no different from admitting what that girl’s mother once said long ago—that she was nothing more than a leech, living off others.
She couldn’t allow that.
That was why she had forced herself through the past month, day by day.
She had even weighed it in her mind—
Which would hurt her pride more?
And finally, after collecting today’s wages, she would be able to pay back her debt to Hael.
What would come after that?
There wasn’t much to think about.
Painful as it was, the reality was that she wouldn’t find a better job than this.
And with that money, she could afford another dose of her mother’s medicine.
Even if it was nothing more than a slow, torturous hope, a family member caring for a patient had no choice but to do whatever they could until the very end.
So, she told herself again: Just a little longer. I can hold on.
While she held on to that promise, Cassian’s gaze stayed fixed on her. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
Yurisiel steadied her emotions and finally spoke, using the most polite voice she could manage.
“There are so many other things in this room you could draw besides me.”
Cassian silently looked at her, the same girl who had just said she hated even breathing near him.
He remembered how easily she had smiled for that silver-haired man. It was absurd.
To be honest, he knew they didn’t suit each other.
As she had pointed out, this room was full of beautiful and refined things, any of which would suit him far better.
At least in the eyes of someone who carried the Blanchet name.
And yet, he didn’t understand it himself, why was he trying so hard to keep someone who clearly didn’t want to stay?
Was it really worth all this?
No. It wasn’t.
But then again, maybe it was.
After all, he was the one who hired her. He was the one who offered her money to serve him.
And now she wanted to back out? How convenient.
Besides, she was the one pretending to be the Lady of the Bilrod family. She was the one who lied and deceived him.
So this much—this small act—she could endure.
“There are plenty of other things to draw,” he said. “But none of them are alive.”
“There are living things. Flowers. Birds.”
“They’re not interesting. They’re too perfect.”
There was nothing in Blanchet that wasn’t elegant or refined.
The lord of the estate worked himself to the bone to impress the Blanchet’s, tending the gardens and cleaning the entire manor every day. It had always been that way, even before Cassian arrived.
Nothing less than perfect had ever been allowed near him.
Except for the girl sitting in front of him now.
“I see perfect things every single day. Do you think that’s interesting anymore?”
“…”
“People are always drawn to what’s unfamiliar.”
His emerald eyes, holding the color of spring after a long winter, shifted slightly.
And there she was reflected clearly in them.
Seeing her like that filled Cassian with a strange, unexplainable desire.
Like someone obsessed with something he couldn’t have. Like a madman enchanted by something he’d never seen before.
As if possessed, he stood and walked toward her.
Startled by his sudden movement, Yurisiel sucked in a quick breath.
As he approached, a cool, woodsy scent brushed past her nose.
He reached out behind her head, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look up at him.
Instinctively, Yurisiel tried to lean back, but before she could move, he caught her in place.
Her mind went blank.
“Wh–why are you doing this?”
