Chapter 16. The Golden Ratio

Mikhail flashed another dazzling smile at Charles’ bewildered face as the boy looked up at him.

“You see, managing a piece of art is far more important than acquiring one.”

Emma nodded slowly, genuinely agreeing.

Her father, who ran a workshop, had always emphasized the importance of preserving materials to prevent them from deteriorating.

If maintaining raw materials was so critical, how much more care would completed masterpieces require?

“You’re absolutely right, Your Grace.”

“Call me brother.”

Mikhail immediately corrected her, and Emma, out of habit, rubbed her still-warm neck as she responded awkwardly.

“…Yes, brother.”

As they continued walking, Mikhail began to explain.

“Violet Castle is a place of great historical significance and beauty, but its high altitude made it difficult to bring in electricity.”

“…”

“But for maintaining the proper temperature and humidity, electricity is indispensable. Especially with Bonchons’ unpredictable weather.”

“That must have been challenging.”

Mikhail chuckled at Emma’s polite response.

“The laborers did the hard part. For me, it was just a matter of spending more money.”

“…Ah.”

Emma felt a little embarrassed by her overly earnest comment and quickly looked away from Mikhail’s openly amused gaze.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No. I just find you… fascinating.”

“Fascinating?”

Mikhail’s golden eyes lingered on Emma’s face—the bright blue eyes like topaz, the perfectly balanced nose, and the soft, slightly parted lips tinged with a rosy hue.

Although Charles was technically a purchased sibling, Mikhail already felt a surprising sense of familiarity and fondness toward him.

‘Familiarity.’

The word struck Mikhail as he mulled it over.

For someone as mercurial and easily bored as him, this feeling was rare.

“Perhaps it’s your proportions,” Mikhail said suddenly.
“Proportions?”

“Yes, the golden ratio. The balance in your face and mine—the kind that draws people in and makes them think, ‘That’s beautiful.’”

“Ah…”

“There aren’t many faces as perfectly proportioned as mine. Apart from Gabriella, you’re the only other one I’ve met.”

Emma’s only response to this unabashed mix of self-love and familial admiration was to subtly avert her gaze.

Still, she couldn’t deny her own amazement.

Walking side by side with the so-called Angel of Bonchons, the noble and impossibly beautiful Duke of Ophilenz, felt surreal.

The fact that they were close enough for her to hear his breaths only heightened her disbelief—and her heart pounded so loudly, she worried it might escape her chest.

Mikhail stopped in front of a towering sculpture and turned to her abruptly.

“Have you had any experience with women?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Don’t act so innocent. You lived in Bonchons’ back alleys. If you’ve never been with a woman, there are only two explanations.”

Emma swallowed hard, her throat dry.

Mikhail smirked, mistaking her reaction for shyness.

“Either something’s wrong with you physically, or you prefer men.”

‘Physically?’

Emma cringed internally, trying to suppress a shudder.

“I assure you, it’s neither,” she managed to say, her voice strained.

“Neither?”

Calming herself, Emma replied steadily.

“Honestly, I was too busy surviving to think about such things.”

Mikhail chuckled as he resumed walking.

“Fair enough.”

Seizing the opportunity to redirect the conversation, Emma asked, “What about you, brother?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Surely you’ve…”—she trailed off, her face burning—“…been with many women?”

It was an embarrassingly obvious question, but Emma’s ears felt as though they were on fire as she waited for his response. After all, Mikhail’s scandals were practically staples of Bonchons’ newspapers.

“Do you really need to ask? Even the princess refuses to leave me alone.”

“…Ah.”

Mikhail’s eyes turned calculating as he fixed her with a piercing gaze.

“Be honest. You’ve had your share of admirers, haven’t you?”

“I’ve told you, I was too preoccupied trying to make a living…”

“Lies.”

For a moment, Emma wondered if she should confess her entire secret to this radiant yet formidable man standing before her.

The sunlight streaming through the massive windows cast an angelic glow around Mikhail, as though he were some divine figure.

Despite the absurdity of his questions, his presence was so awe-inspiring that Emma felt as if she should lay bare every truth.

But when his eyes curved playfully, that sense of reverence shattered, replaced by unease.

“Well, if that’s true, there’s no helping it,” Mikhail said with a faint smirk.

“But the idea of you having no experience with women is a bit… unsettling. The princess has a taste for men with a bit of a wild streak, you see.”

“…?”

Adopting an almost magnanimous air, Mikhail added, “I’ll take you to one of my favorite clubs tomorrow. We’ll have a proper night out. What do you say?”

* * *

That Evening.

Gabriella hesitated at Mikhail’s announcement that he planned to take Charles to a club.

“Already? Shouldn’t you teach him more first? Politics, history, or at least some knowledge about this month’s polo matches?”

Mikhail shrugged.

“I’ve trained him enough, Gabriella. Don’t worry. Besides, men don’t bother with formalities as much when they’re together.”

“That’s what ‘you’ think.”

Gabriella frowned slightly, then added after a pause,

“…What if a prince happens to be there? What then?”

“Even better. I’ll officially introduce Charles. Rumors will travel faster to Isabella’s ears, and it’ll only help us.”

Gabriella sighed, clearly already weary of Mikhail’s reasoning, before turning her attention to Emma.

Adorned with soft feather decorations in her hair, Gabriella called out to Emma in a voice softer than the feathers themselves.

“Charles?”

“Yes, sister.”

“So, you’re going to a club with Mikhail?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

A faint crack appeared on Gabriella’s composed expression as her brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Do you know how to play cards?”

“A little.”

Gabriella, still frowning, leaned in to emphasize her next point.

“You ‘must’ win at card games. If you think you’re going to lose, don’t even sit at the table. Do you understand?”

Emma desperately wanted to tell Gabriella that the place Mikhail was planning to take her likely wasn’t ‘that’ kind of club.

“Mikhail seems to think you’re already a perfect nobleman, but I disagree completely.”

Emma had no intention of arguing with Gabriella. In fact, she fervently hoped Gabriella would convince Mikhail to drop the idea altogether.

“I think so too, Sister. I still have a long way to go.”

“Good. But keep in mind that gentlemen’s social clubs aren’t just any place. They’re for members only. On top of that, women aren’t allowed, so the atmosphere is very strict.”

“Yes, I understand. Which is why I think it might be better if I…”

Mikhail interrupted Gabriella’s lecture by casually pulling out his pocket watch.

“By the way, Gabriella, weren’t you planning to attend the evening concert?”

“Is it already that late?”

“Of course. You’d better hurry if you want to arrive ten minutes early and sit gracefully.”

Emma sighed inwardly as she watched Mikhail deftly divert Gabriella’s attention.

Chuckling, Mikhail patted Emma on the shoulder and murmured sweetly,

“There you go. With Gabriella’s official permission, we’re free to enjoy the whole night, aren’t we?”

Emma had no idea how to respond and could only manage an awkward smile.

“Tell Alain to have you dressed in the new blouse and jacket we had tailored. Don’t forget the boutonniere and tie.”

“…Yes, brother.”

Trying to suppress the weight of Mikhail’s ever-glimmering golden gaze, Emma took a deep breath, careful not to let it show.

In this moment, only Mikhail seemed brimming with excitement, his face glowing with an unrestrained smile.

“Well then, get ready and meet me downstairs, Charles.”