Chapter 16

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 16

Chapter Title: The Red-Banded Verdict

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Did he see right through my flustered heart?

The Duke gave me a quick glance before slamming his bored gaze back down onto the documents.

"Your expression screams 'how did you know?'"

Eek, scary!

Strictly speaking, it wasn't exactly an accident... right? It was just a small, cute plea for help.

"Princess, why no answer?"

Calming my chaotic thoughts, I managed a small but firm reply.

"No, why are you interrogating me so menacingly?"

"Am I asking about something that didn't happen?"

"Not that, but..."

Was it my imagination, or did his words feel especially sharp today?

From watching Liam, the Duke didn't strike me as the type who toiled away day and night.

No way... was this guy just cranky from lack of sleep?

I shook off the mounting ominous feeling and pursed my lips.

"Heh."

If the Duke hadn't let out that sudden chuckle, my courage would've shriveled to the size of a pea. But that hollow laugh drained all the tension from me.

"The Princess has never once come to see me on her own two feet. I've always had to send someone to fetch you. That precious body of yours."

"Precious body? You're joking..."

Who handles a 'precious body' like this? Sure, it was convenient for me.

Thinking it was just the Duke's silly joke, I laughed and waved it off—only to meet his eyes dead-on and snap my mouth shut.

'He's not joking.'

New discovery: The Duke was the type who couldn't tell a joke from seriousness.

"You look like you're just stalling, so no helping it. I heard the gist already."

"You knew and still asked?"

"Wanted to see your reaction."

"...You're wicked."

I had plenty more to say but swallowed it down.

At my sulky tone, the Duke shoved the documents aside entirely and fixed his gaze on me.

"For someone putting on such a front, you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit."

"Well... it is fun."

I'd only ever read finished comics before—never made one myself. But diving in hands-on turned out to be surprisingly addictive.

Watching the things I described verbally come alive through the hands of skilled artists was fascinating in itself.

And above all, I had to admit I was impressed by the artists' passion.

Unlike me, who'd always slaved away at assigned tasks like a drone, these people tackled their work with genuine enthusiasm and drive. It was almost moving.

"So."

Phew. Alright, time to say it straight.

"Please help me out..."

I flashed a servile grin and clasped my hands together.

What good was pointless pride? Pride didn't pay the bills.

There was no downside to cozying up to the guy footing the massive salaries for these artists.

Honestly, I could tell he wasn't completely disinterested—he didn't even need to say it.

"If I help, what will you give me in return, Princess?"

"Um."

This time, I was at a loss for a whole different reason. I wanted to offer something, but freeloading in the Duke's manor as I was, nothing sprang to mind.

Racking my brain, I finally peeked at his expression and asked,

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'll keep you."

"Pardon?"

"You're useful, Princess. I'll keep one around. Sound good?"

His response left me utterly speechless, so I nodded stiffly.

"Y-Yeah, sure."

No other choice right now.

Damn it, can't you just help out without the catch? What a sleazy boss!

I bowed my head to hide my grumpiness, oblivious to the fact that he'd seen right through that too.

And so, the day of reckoning arrived.

The common theme I'd proposed was The Golden Axe and the Silver Axe.

A classic folktale—easy to adapt, straightforward plot. Perfect for sizing up skills without any shortcomings.

"Hoo."

As I stood before the atelier door to check the results, Bonita came bustling over in a flurry.

"Ah! Lady April, are you nervous? Worried Ashley might screw up?"

"Not exactly..."

I'd already seen Ashley's flair for staging—she'd earned my trust there.

But... if the other artists turned in half-baked work, the Duke might see it as a waste of time and blow up.

And if the Duke blew up, there was a high chance the fallout would hit me!

'Scaryyy!'

Everyone probably thought I was just kicking back carefree, but only I knew the dam project had only bought me a temporary stay of execution. I was still a hostage who could drop dead anytime.

"Hohoho, no need to fret! I watched her like a hawk—Ashley put her life on the line for this!"

"How?"

"Brewed her sweet hot chocolate every night and spied."

"Why on earth...?"

"Gotta be the first to know the juicy gossip!"

Bonita was no ordinary maid, that was for sure.

Stunned by her brazenness for a moment, I schooled my expression and pushed open the hefty atelier door.

In the spacious hall,

at the end of the line of artists stood what looked like the Duke's head seat, with a single chair right below it, both facing the round table.

And on the table sat two identical books.

Only the colors of their paper bands differed—no way to tell which was whose.

I walked in calmly and took my seat. Liam's voice then boomed through the hall.

"His Highness the Duke of Brail!"

The artists tensed up without exception, eyes glued to the door.

The Duke of Brail who appeared... crossed the vast hall with a face so icy cold, not even a needle could slip through.

The two anonymous submissions were placed before the Duke.

He dove into reading without a moment's hesitation, and soon passed one to me.

I reviewed it, then handed it to the three artists roped in for fair judging.

It took a good long while for the books to make full rounds, but no one budged from their seats.

Finally, Sir Brown spoke up as the artists' representative.

"We liked the red-banded book."

I'd been certain while reading it myself, but with anonymity locked down tight, the artists had no clue whose work was whose.

"I think the red band is far superior too."

At my words, the Duke—who'd been silent till then—finally spoke.

"I find the red-banded book aligns better with the goal as well."

The Duke of Brail pressed on, his face still devoid of any smile.

"The blue-banded one was all flash in the illustrations, but it lacked any pull to turn the page. Nothing but a picture book desperate to show off skill."

His assessment matched mine to a T.

"But this red-banded book was different."

It was mere black-and-white sketches, yet the key moments popped with simple coloring for vivid life.

And the varied angles made even the same scenes feel fresh and dynamic.

For someone unfamiliar with comics, it was a remarkably precise and persuasive critique. I nodded, thinking as expected of his discerning eye.

"Above all, the red-banded book clearly keeps the reader in mind. I select it."

The moment the Duke wrapped up, joy and despair split the room.

Murmurs swelled, but he paid them no heed.

"Who drew the red-banded book?"

The head maid—the only one in the know—bowed and stepped forward.

"Ashley Barnes."

"Outstanding."

His praise was plain yet groundbreaking. Ashley's face flushed beet red.

Berimore and the other apprentices wore looks of bitter frustration, but they held their tongues.

They hadn't forgotten their agreement to accept the verdict.

But the Duke's response didn't stop there.

"Miss Barnes, are you sponsored?"

"Embarrassingly, no one's supported me yet. I've been funding my art myself."

"A pity. Then I'll be your first patron."

"...Pardon?"

I gawked at the Duke, eyes wide.

Ashley was no different. She seemed to doubt her own ears, freezing up before gritting her teeth at his follow-up.

"The capable deserve their shot."

"Ah, aaah...!"

Her face twisted as she fought back tears, dropping to her knees.

"Thank you, Your Highness the Duke of Brail. Thank you!"

It was the moment her dream—chased only in sleep—came true.