Chapter 19. The Birth of Venus

For a moment, Emma thought her heart had stopped.

…If it weren’t for the shadows of fluttering blossoms in the breeze, her face—redder than the setting sun—might have betrayed her entirely.

With a graceful yet deliberate motion, the Duke’s long, elegant fingers reached for Emma’s neck. Without hesitation, his thumb and forefinger deftly unfastened a couple of the silk buttons that had been tightly secured.

“Stiff, aren’t you?”

The bitter-sweet scent of his cigar wafted over her, far too close.

“Looking like an uptight novice does no good here. Keep that in mind, Charles.”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

What should she do?

If the thundering beat of her heart wasn’t audible to him, that itself would be a miracle.

What should she do?

If any more buttons came undone, the tightly bound bandages underneath might be revealed.

What should she do?

…He was too close.

So close that his breath could almost brush against her skin.

Paralyzed by tension, Emma could barely register the low timbre of Mikhail’s voice, which resonated in her ears as though descending from the heavens themselves.

“There’s no need for formality where we’re going. Show up buttoned to the neck like this, and you’ll draw every pair of eyes in the room.”

Emma looked up at him, her blue eyes clouded with confusion. He responded with a faint, enigmatic smile.

“…I wonder how long you’ll keep looking at the world with those innocent eyes, Charles.”

Before the shadows of the blossoms could fully retreat from Emma’s frozen face, the carriage door swung open with a sudden clatter, flooding the interior with brilliant light.

“Duke Ophilenz! Welcome!”

Mikhail, who had loosened the buttons on his own shirt even further, let out a soft chuckle as he leaned toward Emma, speaking once more in that dangerously sweet tone.

“Welcome to my playground, Charles.”

* * *

“Nina, don’t be surprised. Do you know who’s coming today?”

Nina Loren, with her lush red hair cascading like waves, slowly blinked her deep green eyes, shimmering like summer leaves.

“Who could it be? Perhaps a prince gracing us with his presence?”

As the black-haired woman handed Nina a silver shawl, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“A prince, indeed—a prince from the Violet Castle.”

At the mention of the Violet Castle, Nina’s face flushed like a blossoming flower.

“Don’t tell me… the Duke of Ophilenz?”

“Exactly! And there’s more exciting news!”

Nina’s emerald eyes fluttered rapidly, caught between curiosity and anticipation.

…Could it be? Could there be joyful news of the Duke severing ties with that wretched princess?

Ever since the cursed engagement announcement between Isabella, the princess, and her beloved Duke had dominated the headlines for days, Nina hadn’t been able to sleep a wink.

Princess Isabella—an empty shell devoid of refinement or elegance, despite her royal veneer.

The mere thought of such a woman daring to hold a wedding with her radiant Duke made Nina’s blood boil all over again.

Unbothered by Nina’s simmering rage, the black-haired woman kept chattering, her excitement palpable.

“The Duke’s distant younger cousin is coming with him!”

“…A younger cousin?”

Nina’s green eyes dimmed, her initial intrigue quickly fading at this unexpected piece of news.

The black-haired woman, undeterred, scattered a shimmering dust of pearls into Nina’s hair, her coy smile turning sultry.

“I caught a glimpse of him stepping out of the carriage…”

“Hmm?”

“…and he’s utterly breathtaking.”

The effusive praise was so over-the-top that Nina couldn’t help but scoff.

“Hardly. No one could outshine the Duke of Ophilenz.”

From a distance, the bustle of activity and someone calling Nina’s name broke through the conversation.

“Nina, the curtain’s about to rise! Hurry!”

“I’m coming.”

With perfect poise, Nina Loren, transformed into a flawless goddess, began her graceful walk.

It was time to meet the eternal subject of her unrequited love and worship: Duke Mikhail d’Ophilenz.

* * *

Emma discreetly darted her wide eyes around the room, trying to process her surroundings.

…How could such a place exist?

When she first stepped into the garden, she thought it was simply an elaborate, well-maintained one.

Walking along the path lined with golden mimosa flowers glowing against the night had been mildly surprising.

Then came the path flanked by towering marble columns, their sheer grandeur slowly chipping away at her composure.

But stepping through the massive doors into the interior, Emma momentarily wondered if she had wandered into another realm entirely.

The air was thick with mist, giving the place an ethereal aura reminiscent of Mount Olympus itself.

Women sat scattered about, strumming lyres and playing auloi as though they were real nymphs.

The heady, almost overpowering fragrance of blossoms filled the space, intoxicating her senses.

…It was impossible to believe that such a place could exist in the heart of bustling Bonchons.

Mikhail, his eyes gleaming like a god of the arts strolling through his temple, explained,

“You’re aware that our family invests heavily in archaeology, yes?”

Emma nodded, mentally pulling up the extensive list of Ophilenz family ventures she had painstakingly memorized just days prior.

“Yes, I know. Especially in ancient artifacts.”

Mikhail gestured to one of the colossal columns standing beside them.

“Do you think this is a replica or the real deal?”

Emma hesitated, her trembling hand cautiously brushing against the column’s surface.

Mikhail watched her sapphire-blue eyes grow darker and her pupils dilate in amazement.

“This… this is—!”

“Yes, genuine. How did you guess?”

“Well…”

Emma managed to suppress her excitement, replying in a composed tone.

“No sculptor, no matter how skilled, can perfectly mimic the passage of time.”

She pointed to a neighboring column and continued.

“Even when an artisan tries to roughen the surface to imitate wear, it never quite rings true.”

For a brief moment, Mikhail felt an almost overwhelming sense of pride and elation, as though he were soaring above the clouds.

Of all the nobles and archaeologists he had brought to this sanctuary, not one had dared to declare these columns authentic.

And none had guessed the secret that only he knew—some of the columns here were indeed replicas, placed to deceive.

But this boy had unraveled the truth in moments.

Still, Mikhail restrained his emotions, choosing to savor his private triumph.

There was no longer any need to test Charles’s eye for detail. That skill was already proven.

It was time to shift to the real purpose of their visit.

It was time to craft Charles into a second Mikhail—someone so captivating that Isabella wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Duke, it’s been too long! I thought my neck would grow long from waiting!”

A woman with a bold, flowery perfume approached, draping a red ‘chlamys’ over Mikhail’s shoulder.

“Well, I’m here now. Where are our goddesses?”

The woman’s gold-threaded netting jingled as she laughed lightly.

“Of course, they’re all eagerly waiting for you. Let’s take you to your seat. The performance is about to begin.”

Her sultry gaze shifted to Emma, curiosity lighting her eyes.

“And who might this beautiful boy be? Narcissus himself?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hooked her arm around Emma’s and began leading him along.

“This place,” she said with a knowing smile, “is the Duke of Ophilenz’s temple.”

Emma suddenly recalled Mikhail’s earlier words.

“…So this is my brother’s playground.”

The woman burst into laughter.

“Indeed. A truly exquisite playground.”

Mikhail, flashing a sly grin, leaned close to Emma’s ear and whispered,

“Don’t tell Gabriella.”

The shimmering silken curtain on the stage began to rise, and Emma’s lips parted slightly in awe.

“…The ‘Birth of Venus’..”

Onstage, the masterpiece had come to life, with actors recreating the scene in stunning detail.

The flowing hair, the delicate floral drapery, the scarlet cloth adorned with countless blossoms, and the foamy waves supporting the giant seashell—all were flawlessly rendered.

Mikhail watched with satisfaction as Charles’s mesmerized blue eyes remained fixed on the woman atop the seashell.

Draped in translucent silk that accentuated every graceful curve of her body, the actress exuded a radiant allure.

She was Nina Loren, Bonchons’ most celebrated star.

…And she was the one Mikhail had chosen to introduce Charles to the pleasures of the night.