~Chapter 80~
“Ruby!!”
The moment I opened the envelope, my body was lifted into the air.
Before I knew it, Damien was spinning me around as if we were dancing.
“You did so well! So, so well!”
His voice was more excited than when he talked about scary curses. From that bright, happy voice, I felt how much he truly cared for me.
“Da-Damien, wait, ah!”
“Oops.”
As I lost balance and tilted to the side, Damien quickly caught me. He carried me to a chair and helped me sit.
“Are you alright? Here, drink some water.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine, but…”
I read the letter in my hand again.
Was I seeing it wrong? Was I expecting too much?
‘Did I really win the Grand Prize?’
But no—the word Grand Prize was clearly written.
I put the letter down on the table and muttered blankly, pressing my forehead.
“Me… the Grand Prize winner?”
Was this a dream?
To really debut as an artist?
And not just debut—but as the Grand Prize winner of the contest?
Slowly, I realized it was real, and joy burst inside me like fireworks.
“Yes, Ruby. The Grand Prize. Now you’re an artist who comes from winning the Grand Prize.”
“Wow…”
“You worked so hard, and you did well, Ruby. I always believed you’d do well, but…”
Before Damien could finish, I threw my arms around him.
I felt like hugging anyone near me at that moment.
“Damien…!”
Memories rushed through my head.
The time I secretly painted in my old home.
When Damien discovered my paintings and was the first person to ever praise me.
The time I bought good tools and learned from a real teacher.
The struggle during the contest when I couldn’t paint.
And finally, with Damien’s help, painting the self-portrait with all my heart.
Without Damien, I never could have painted that masterpiece.
“Thank you so much. I worked hard, but you also worked so hard…”
“N-no, not really.”
Damien looked strangely stiff, almost nervous.
“Damien, you worked just as hard. I could only win this prize because of you.”
This time, his voice was firm.
“Ruby, but this award is yours because you painted well. I just—”
“Of course, I painted well.”
I hugged him tighter.
I was so happy, I felt I could embrace the whole world.
“But without your words, I would never have thought of that self-portrait! You helped me, comforted me, and stayed by me. That’s what I’m grateful for!”
Damien didn’t argue this time. After a pause, he answered quietly.
“…Alright, I understand.”
A large hand stroked my head softly.
The touch felt so warm and gentle.
“Thank you for saying that. You really worked hard.”
“Hehe, it’s nothing.”
I finally let him go and smiled.
“Damien, since we have such good news, let’s have something nice for dinner—”
Chu.
Something soft brushed my cheek and disappeared.
‘Wait… what?’
Did… did he just kiss me?
‘But that has nothing to do with curse-sharing!’
I stared at him, mouth open, and he smiled playfully.
“You surprised me with that sudden hug. I liked it though.”
What… what did he just say?
“So I got a little revenge.”
What!?
Revenge… by kissing?!
What kind of husband just does that so casually…
‘Well, I guess… he is my husband, so it’s allowed… but still!!’
And it was so sudden—no warning at all!
“Oh, and I’ll tell them to prepare something nice for dinner.”
Annoyingly, Damien wiped away his playful smile and calmly talked about dinner as if nothing happened.
‘Did I raise a sly fox…?’
My cheek still burned like fire as I let him lead me toward the dining room.
Just then—
“Hm? What’s this?”
Something fluttered out of the envelope that held the contest results.
“A map…?”
It was a map of the Imperial Academy.
Feeling something strange, I checked the letter again and discovered something new.
“There was a postscript.”
It was an invitation—telling me to come to the Imperial Academy, where the judges were gathered.
A few days later, I stood before nearly twenty older professors and famous painters, being bombarded with questions.
“So, Your Grace, this is truly your husband, Duke Maledictus?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, indeed. The Duke’s appearance is remarkable. I even wanted to paint his portrait myself one day…”
Hmph. Of course my husband is handsome.
In fact, he had that perfect decadent look—tall, well-built, but with delicate, fine features. Artists always loved painting beautiful people.
“But compared to when I saw him at the banquet, his image feels different. Much softer and kinder.”
“Oh, that’s because I painted him based on how he looks when he sees me.”
The judges began whispering among themselves.
“Oh my, oh my, how sweet.”
“Ha, my husband only stares at me like a dead fish asking for food.”
“Same here.”
Professor Hireono, with curly brown hair, studied the painting carefully and said,
“In the Duchess’s painting, there is an unusual amount of affection. Especially in the part where you painted the Duke, I feel a deep love.”
“Huh?”
“R-really?”
I always painted with affection—that was my style. I only painted things I liked.
So hearing praise that my affection showed in my paintings made me happy.
But to say that especially Damien’s part showed even more affection…
‘Well, I did put a lot of effort into that part.’
So it was obvious to others too, huh.
‘But it’s more like… he’s precious to me. That’s different from… romantic love, right?’
After all, we had a contract marriage. We never dated like normal lovers.
Sure, we went on dates, shared a bed, even used the same bath, and when I looked at him my heart sometimes raced, but…
‘Wait. Huh?’
Something felt strange.
As I thought about it, another judge spoke.
“Even though we praised your painting and explanation, we still want to fully understand it. May we continue asking questions?”
“Oh, yes, of course. It’s my honor.”
“Then, could you explain the skulls and ghosts? Are they symbols of human violence, immorality, and murderous intent? Yet showing that even these negative traits are part of humanity, and should be accepted? Is it a hymn to humanity?”
“Uh, um?”
Uh… no.
I just added the skulls and ghosts because I like them. There was no deep message.
“And these twins with knives—do they represent the human conflict between violence and morality?”
Nope.
The twins are both violent. Alice and Elliot have never been non-violent.
But I couldn’t explain that, so I just muttered vaguely,
“Y-yes, that’s right. Exactly.”
“Wow, such a brilliant metaphor. Amazing for a newcomer.”
These people were really overestimating me.
If I told them the truth—that I just loved horror—they’d faint.
“And this figure that looks exactly like you—what does it mean?”
I quietly looked at the canvas, where ‘It’ stared straight at me.
This, at least, I had to answer truthfully.
“That is the version of me I feared the most.”
The room fell silent.
“It’s the other me, the one who hurts others. I was afraid I’d harm curses, animals… even people close to me.”
The judges listened intently.
“But that self is also a part of me. Unless I accept it, I cannot truly accept myself. That’s why I painted it.”
The judges all nodded slowly. At least this part, they fully understood.
After that, the discussion continued for a long time.
“Phew, finally over.”
Talking about my self-portrait with the judges had been fun—time passed without me noticing.
But since it went until evening, I was tired.
Thinking of Damien waiting outside, I hurried my steps—
“Maledictus Duchess.”
Someone blocked the entrance and stopped me.
“Let’s talk alone for a while.”
It was none other than the First Prince, Leonie.
