Chapter 262
“Not exactly professional, but for just half a year of practice, it’s remarkably skilled.”
‘Did he really draw me like this? Unbelievable.’
“……”
Kazhan ignored the mocking voice in his head and stared fixedly at the Ysaris in the painting. Even to his own eyes, it fell infinitely short of the real woman, destined to join the others tucked away in a corner.
“Difficult.”
Sculpting had come to him faster than this.
His gaze flickered to the easel behind the painting. Everything was there—from his earliest, clumsy attempts with no sense of depth to the rapid improvements after hiring a proper tutor.
He should have discarded the failures. There was only one reason he hadn’t.
Because the subject of every painting was Ysaris.
“Hm.”
Comparing the newest Ysaris to the previous one, he nodded at the visible progress. At this rate, he’d soon paint a portrait he could truly be satisfied with.
‘And yet, to obsess over something so pointless…’
He didn’t argue with the taunt. It was pointless—after all, an official portrait of Ysaris already hung prominently in the palace. Even with his lighter workload lately, pouring this much time into it was disproportionate.
But his reason was simple.
He wanted to preserve Ysaris smiling. Not blank-faced, but radiant—the way only he remembered her.
“…I should have done this sooner.”
He should have commissioned a new portrait the moment Ysaris returned to Uzephia. How wonderful it would have been to capture the three of them together—Ysaris, Mikael, and himself.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered it. They’d even planned to do it after the New Year’s festival, as a celebration.
Back when their relationship was still untroubled. Before the abduction ruined everything.
At least his memory was sharp. Especially when it came to Ysaris—every detail of her, good or bad, could be recalled vividly. He didn’t need to see her in person to paint her.
The slight frown between her brows when concentrating, the way her lips pursed. The nervous, glittering eyes during their first secret date after falling in love.
Her bright smile glancing back at him through spring blossoms, her breathless gasps in their shared bed, the petulance lacing her voice whenever she demanded something—
And every moment she’d looked at him with contempt.
‘Wouldn’t you rather forget?’
“……”
Kazhan’s fingers absently traced the wedding ring hanging from his neck. His own still sat properly on his left hand—this was Ysaris’s, left behind.
He’d retrieved it from the black mage’s corpse and slipped it back onto her finger, only for her to abandon it again when she fled.
Just as she’d faked her death to escape him.
‘To her, you’re as good as dead now, aren’t you? Or is it you who’s dead?’
“……”
Silent, Kazhan stared blankly at the painting before finally turning away.
Dawn was approaching. It was time to work.
* * *
Two years and ten months had passed since Ysaris left. In that time, Kazhan’s painting skills had improved enough to impress anyone—though, as an unbecoming hobby for an emperor, he’d shown no one but his tutor.
The storeroom was now packed with increasingly polished portraits.
Most were of Ysaris alone, though a few included Mikael in her arms. Frozen in time, neither woman nor child had aged a day since their last meeting.
His days followed a pattern, imperial duties, a nap before dinner, then painting through the night like a man possessed.
Unhealthy, yet regimented—until the day abrupt news shattered the rhythm.
“Y-Your Majesty! The Empress requests an audience!”
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