Mess 152

152.

“‘The Curse of Validus,’ huh…”

Inside the carriage hurriedly making its way to the square.

“Yeah, now I see why things have been so peaceful.”

Seraphie’s face, reflected in the window, wore a composed smile, as if she had already transcended all things.

“It’s rare for someone to be born under such an unlucky star…”

Loony, seated beside her, offered a sympathetic remark. Even the sound of her tongue clicking in pity seemed full of regret.

“He’s quite the audacious fellow.”

On the opposite seat, Orkis could not conceal his displeasure.

“Indeed.”

Loony chimed in.

“After the incident at the temple, hasn’t word spread enough that crossing Validus is—no, that it spells certain ruin?”

Though Validus was considered easy prey among the nobility, the recent temple episode had left a rather savage impression.

In fact, this was the first time news had widely spread that Validus had prevailed over another faction.

Even more, that faction had been the arrogant temple; now, even the scandal sheets famed for sensationalizing rumors about the bastard were treading carefully.

“And things will only get more daunting after the banquet’s over…”

The temple may have inadvertently presented them with an advantage, but considering all that would transpire after the banquet, it paled in comparison.

By then, perhaps no one would dare even speak Validus’s name.

Amid their conversation, the carriage arrived at its destination.

As Seraphie disembarked, people cast furtive glances her way and edged silently back.

“…Just what kind of invective did he use for them to react like that?”

Seraphie asked Orkis in a low voice.

“What does it matter?”

Orkis’s smile was sharper than usual.

“He’s a dead man walking.”

“Goodness…”

“His mere existence is a blight on the world. Removing him would be a service to all.”

“Since when did you become such a fool, sir?”

Loony couldn’t contain it any longer and asked.

‘If Penny had heard this, she might have been sick with laughter.’

The square was, as expected, crowded with people. Even so, it was easy to spot where the painting hung: at the entrance to the alley where the crowd was thickest.

And as soon as the people recognized Seraphie’s party, they silently parted to either side.

“It’s Validus…”

“Count Validus has come…”

The chorus of whispers grew steadily louder.

‘…What?’

But the more Seraphie listened, the more puzzled she became. Orkis and Loony’s expressions mirrored her own.

“Look, I told you—he’s not ordinary.”

“There’s a reason his house is favored by the gods.”

“That’s why the temple got punished! You must never cross…”

If one had to put their gaze into a single word, it was closest to ‘awe.’ For Seraphie, who had expected the opposite, this was rather surprising.

The reason soon became clear through the painting.

“…!”

Seraphie’s eyes widened in astonishment at the sight.

“My God…”

Loony hastily crossed herself and whispered a prayer.

“…”

Even the unflappable Orkis was rendered speechless by the painting.

The painting displayed on a temporary wall at the alley’s entrance was smaller than expected—a canvas the length of a child’s arm—and yet the colors were oppressively dark.

But darker still, and more dreadful, was its grotesque style.

A person with the head of a beast.

A naked figure impaled on a demon’s trident.

Someone whose flesh had rotted away from their fingers, exposing the bone.

And all of them suffered cruel torments beneath the legs of a demon reminiscent of a goat. Some knelt, sobbing, before the demon; others fled from skeletal soldiers.

All the damned, writhing in agony, wore the vestments of priests.

Yet at both ends of the painting—despite the scene suggesting devil worship—there was an oddly sacred glow. A pure white light descended, protecting those suffering at the hands of the priests.

Into that light, an angel descended. An angel with blue hair.

“…”

Seraphie was at a loss for words.

‘This isn’t a painting meant to curse Validus at all…’

In fact, it was quite the opposite.

“…This piece,”

Orkis finally managed to speak, his voice strained.

“It was meant to expose the temple’s corruption and praise Validus.”

“If I judge the style alone, it could be Sera’s work.”

The paintings were so unearthly that any self-respecting demon would faint at their sight, Loony muttered, as if even the spirits would be driven off.

“Are you sure Sera didn’t paint it in secret?”

“Do you want your wages cut?”

“Can we please stop with the threats about money!”

They always worked too well!

Loony grumbled.

“…But I draw better than that, don’t I?”

Seraphie asked, surprisingly earnest.

“…”

“…”

Orkis and Loony’s silence denied her.

“I don’t know if this comparison is appropriate,”

Orkis began instead, sharing a thought that had just come to him.

“But it reminds me of the awe I felt at the house painter’s first exhibition. Although now, shock is by far the more fitting word.”

“Me too! It’s a really fresh style, I have to say.”

“But this…”

Orkis’s eyes narrowed as he studied the work.

“I’m sure I’ve seen this somewhere before…”

At that moment—

“Excuse us.”

Men of imposing stature pushed through the throng with rough impatience, ducked under the red cord, and took down the painting.

Then, without delay, they boarded a prepared carriage and hurried away, red cord included, making sure no one could approach.

“Wh-what?”

“What’s happening!”

Everyone looked on, dumbfounded, as the painting was stolen in broad daylight.

“What in heaven…”

Someone now approached the equally bewildered Seraphie.

“My Lord Count.”

A man with long navy hair, elegantly gathered and knotted in a round shape—clearly well-groomed.

Seraphie recognized the long-haired man greeting her.

“Indira?”

It was none other than the owner of the gallery. She hadn’t seen him in only a few months, but it felt oddly like the reunion of old friends after years apart.

“I hope you have been well.”

Indira greeted her politely. His distinctive androgynous beauty was as striking as ever. Yet he seemed a little slimmer than when she last saw him.

“What brings you here? Was it about that painting we just saw?”

“If you would allow it, might we discuss this at the gallery?”

“…”

“I will explain everything.”

Indira led Seraphie, Orkis, and Loony to the gallery.

“Come to think of it, the three of us last went to the gallery together with Lady Estir, didn’t we?”

Loony reminisced fondly.

“Wow, it’s already been a year!”

“It really has?”

Seraphie, too, was startled by how much time had passed.

“Sera back then was a naïve noble, knowing nothing of the world…”

“Sorry—I’m not so pure anymore.”

“But at least you’re rich now!”

Guided by Indira, the trio passed by various paintings as they entered the gallery.

Unlike a year ago, the gallery now displayed diverse styles, not only paintings but also sculptures and craftwork.

“Our most popular items at the moment are ceramics painted by artist Via Provi.”

Even as Indira spoke, a large piece appeared: a porcelain vase featuring Via’s art.

On the ivory surface, angels frolicked among flowers and plants in a fragrant paradise—rendered with exquisite beauty.

“It’s so popular that the Imperial family itself has placed orders.”

“Her Majesty the Empress herself was most taken with them.”

Loony boasted in her place.

“But what happened to the painting from earlier?”

Orkis asked, all seriousness.

“That’s the work of the so-called ‘Painter of Darkness,’ isn’t it?”

“Painter of Darkness?”

And what on earth was that supposed to mean?

For Seraphie, the moniker was cringeworthy—like something out of a melodramatic children’s tale.

“As expected, Lord Felikia recognized it at once.”

Indira smiled weakly, nodding. He seemed to take for granted that Orkis would recognize the artist.

“The Painter of Darkness works in secret, still not officially registered with the painters’ guild, but is tremendously popular with a select few wealthy patrons.”

Indira explained for the benefit of Seraphie and Loony, who were at a loss.

“And among those patrons is none other than the Duke of Felikia.”

“My father recently purchased one of their works.”

Orkis elaborated.

“Though not as striking as the one from earlier, the dark colors, shocking motifs, and grotesque depictions are unmistakably familiar.”

“It certainly left an impression,”

Loony agreed.

“And, my lord,”

Indira stopped abruptly, composed himself with a few deep breaths, then spoke to Seraphie with obvious resolve.

“You know this painter.”

“Me?”

“You have two sponsored artists, do you not?”

Seraphie’s mouth fell open at that.

“Y-you don’t mean…!”

Indira nodded at once.

“Aydal.”

Hardly had the words left his mouth than the very painting they’d seen at the square reappeared, now hanging in the empty space of the gallery.

Seraphie nearly fainted on the spot.

---

Back at the estate, Seraphie collapsed into bed for the first time in ages.

Not even the ordeal in Iris County had brought her so low; she’d since regained her health. But the secret Indira had imparted was too much for even her restored body to bear.

“Are you all right?”

Orkis touched Seraphie’s forehead as she lay there. A mild fever radiated warmly against his palm.

“Orkis…”

Seraphie whimpered from her bed.

“I’m so pissed off…!”

It was less from illness than a maddening sense of inexplicable irritation.

“Aydal—he’s the one, right?”

Loony, perched on the end of the bed, recalled.

“The one who proved Sera’s a pushover. She was nearly swindled but ended up sponsoring him out of luck.”

“To be precise, it wasn’t even his own scam.”

Seraphie retorted, her voice sharp with frustration.

“And why am I supposed to be a pushover?”

Sitting bolt upright, she waved a hand at the evidence.

“He’s the Painter of Darkness! He’s successful enough for even the Duke of Felikia to buy his works! Even the name is impressive!”

“For all you gagged earlier at the moniker…”

Loony pouted at her superior’s sudden change in attitude.

“The Painter of Darkness really is an open secret among a select few.”

Orkis explained.

“He’s renowned for his finely detailed, unsettling depictions—so intricate and eerie that people whisper he must be blessed by a demon, given all the fantastical themes in his work.”

“A demon’s blessing sounds about right,”

Loony snickered, recalling Seraphie’s own attempts at art.

“Most of your stuff is practically in that genre. So anyone who’s sponsored by you—”

“Loony, you can forget your bonus next month.”

“Hey—it was a joke—wait, NEXT month’s bonus? Does that mean this month’s, too?”

No!

While Loony groaned and ruffled her hair in despair, Orkis resumed his interrupted explanation.