58

Khalif had been faithfully fulfilling his role as an art broker, and the art transactions he conducted with Princess Veronica were handled directly by him. Recently, the name of Khalif as an art dealer started to appear in the art world little by little, and he was even visited by artists who wanted to entrust him with their works. In spite of the potential for greed, Khalif handled the sale of art at a level that was easy to digest. Just don't get greedy and don't eat. Elena kept to the line she had asked for early on. Everything was fine. Except for one person.

"I'm worried about Raphael."

Elena's face was worried as she left the central library after stopping by the records room and putting on a disguise. The preparations for the destruction of the Grand Duchy were steadily progressing beyond what Elena had planned.

But Raphael couldn't get out of the slump. He had such a genius talent that she believed he would overcome it anytime. However, except when he was teaching Elena, he almost let go of the brush from his hands, so she was very worried.

The cultural destructive power of the paintings of Raphael, the master who opened the horizons of a new era, was more valuable than any other work of art. One would think that the influence of just one painting would be that great, but it really was.

The variety of techniques that Raphael created and applied, as well as his ability to interpret the human figure, overturned what people had known about painting. That one point became the measure of a painting, and it triggered a sharp decline in the value of paintings that had been considered masterpieces.

That's not all. The symbolic significance of a single painting was even greater in terms of transcending existing paradigms. Intellectuals began to question the social norms that they had been silently accepting. The impact of this would spread to the lowest commoners of the status system. Why do I have to live like this? This was an opportunity for the commoners, who had been deprived but could not speak out, to express their dissatisfaction.

"… I can't believe it when I look back. I can't believe the effect of a single painting was that much."

If someone had said this, Elena would snort and laugh. It's only a painting.

But that actually happened.

When Elena arrived at the West Side annex, she visited the studio as usual.

"I'm here."

Raphael, who was sitting looking at the white canvas, welcomed her.

"Are you here?"

"Why are you making it so dark? It's a basement, so it doesn't light up well. You have to turn it on."

Raphael smiled silently. He wondered if Elena would understand. Starting with that nagging, Elena's time is the only time he smiles.

"It's a little brighter. Huh? Did you cut your hair, senior? You shaved your beard, too."

"I think I left it too unattended. I cut it neatly, does it look good on me?"

When Raphael asked awkwardly, Elena nodded.

"It's nice. The girls will follow."

"It's good to hear empty words."

"I'm telling you."

"I'm not tired of hearing it again. I guess humans are animals that are weak to praise."

Raphael was humble in his acceptance, but Elena's admiration was not exaggerated. He just couldn't manage it now that he was confined to the studio, but he was shrewd when it came to appearance. His eyes and nose were clear, and his frequent use of single-sided glasses added to his intellectual impression. Moreover, as she had felt when he g was a court painter, the free and unbounded atmosphere peculiar to artists had a strange charm that attracted women's hearts.

"Shall we continue to draw what we couldn't do last time?"

"Yes, sir."

Sitting on the canvas, Elena unwrapped the oil paints on her palette and dabbed them on with her brush. She was trying to overcome her shortcomings of lacking basic skills and was developing her expressive abilities through "copying".

"Well done."

"I've been waiting for your compliment."

Elena was satisfied with her improved appearance even though she drew it. But Raphael was a man of no satisfaction.

"I'm a little disappointed here. When you colored, the paint got clumped up due to too much strain on your wrist. It's light, but you have to push it with a force that won't be pushed by the brush."

"It's difficult."

"I'll give you an example."

Raphael dipped his brush in paint and showed it off on the canvas. The colors and expressions were so clearly comparable to Elena's that the earlier compliment fell flat.

"This is how you do it. Lucia, if you copy it a couple of times, you'll be able to do it in no time."

As was the case when he was a court painter, Raphael was born with a natural genius, and he tended to think in terms of himself when teaching others. In other words, because he had mastered the basics of painting and storytelling so easily through his talent, he naturally misunderstood that others would also be able to learn easily. For this reason, she was troubled while being taught.

"It's difficult. Could you teach me easily?"

When Elena complained, Raphael seriously agonized and opened his mouth.

"Okay."

Raphael quietly came behind Elena's back, reached out and wrapped his hand around the one that held her brush.

"I'll show you a demonstration, so please remember this feeling with your fingertips. You just have to apply force and draw a stroke here."

"Ah! I think I know how it feels."

"Really? Remember the feeling and end of the brush…"

At that moment, Raphael's body hardened. In order to help Elena understand, Raphael, who only thought he had to teach easily, realized that he was very close to her.

"This is how you do it, right?"

"…"

Elena was excited as she made fun of the brush, and Raphael swallowed it in vain. As the tip of his nose was almost touching the nape of Elena's neck, a subtle scent and smell of flesh exuded deeply.

'I can't think of anything.'

Once conscious, his body temperature transmitted through the back of his hand, the voice that sounded close as if whispering, and all of Elena's other things paralyzed Raphael's senses and made even time slow.

"I'm definitely better than before."

When Elena turned her head and talked, Raphael's body hardened again.

"Oh, oh, yes. I think it's a lot better."

"Right? I got the feeling!"

"…!"

The more excited Elena talked, the more her breath reached Raphael. For Elena, it may be because she is happy with the way she expresses herself, but Raphael was insane because he was all conscious.

"I-I think you can practice alone now."

Raphael got up unnaturally. If he did this more, his heart would burst. His face was red, as if it would burst.

"What's wrong with you?"

"It's just because it's a little hot. Oh, it's not a little, it's very hot."

Raphael made a hand fan. He wanted to calm himself down and hide his shyness.

"Is it hot? I think I'm fine. Maybe you're running a fever?"

"What?"

"My face is too red now."

Elena got up worried and touched Raphael's forehead.

"…!"

Raphael was at a loss because of the unexpected contact again.

"You don't have a fever."

"Y-you don't have to worry. Rather, you have to practice repeatedly. That's how the body remembers."

Raphael tried to distract Elena from the embarrassment.

"Yes. I'll practice since you say you're okay."

Elena was interested in the painting she was developing, and she repeated the brush strokes proficiently, recalling the sensations she had just experienced. Her ability had definitely improved, and her expression became more vivid. In the meantime, Raphael also regained his equanimity.

'Oh, I can't believe I'm doing this all the time.'

Deep inside Raphael's heart, there had been a bud of emotion toward Elena. However, he did not express or show his feelings. It was because Elena might feel burdened with unilateral feelings.

He was nervous that Elena would notice that he was embarrassed by the unintended contact. What if I get caught? Then what should I do? A lot of worries crossed in a short time. Fortunately, Elena seemed to have no idea how he felt.

"Senior, look. It's definitely better, isn't it? Oh no, I guess I have a talent for painting."

"…"

Raphael, who watched Elena chatter with excitement, let go without realizing it. The purely joyful appearance of Elena shined white enough to make the illusion that she had just transferred an unstained child that has never been seen in the world.

Elena had beauty that Raphael had never seen or felt before. In any language, in any word, Raphael forced out a vocabulary that could express an indescribable feeling.

"Angel."

"What?"

Elena, who heard Raphael's muttering, asked again, wondering if she heard it wrong. Raphael couldn't take his eyes off Elena like a man possessed by something. Feeling burdened by the gaze, Elena slowly turned her head and avoided it.

'I'm too embarrassed to look up. I can't believe you're an embarrassed angel!'

Elena was more than a little perplexed by the sight of Raphael, which she had never seen before. It was only after a while that Raphael, who had been staring at Elena, opened his mouth.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"I'm asking for something, so you set the mood. It's hard to refuse."

"I want to draw a portrait of Miss Lucia."

"…!"

It was Elena's side who was embarrassed by Raphael's cautious but earnest request. A portrait model? It was an unexpected proposal, so she wondered if she heard it correctly.