Masterpiece - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
“Don’t move.”
The man sharply caught the moment her face flinched. His voice, which had been flat as he was absorbed in the sketch, held no emotion, yet Vessia felt as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
“I’m trying, but my face is so itchy.”
“May I take a look?”
Couven put down his pencil.
“Please.”
She wished her voice sounded more earnest. Now, even her usually well-behaved eyebrows were causing trouble. It wasn’t just itchy; it was downright bothersome.
The gloved painter looked at his own hands and then got up from his stool.
The man, who had come a few steps closer, lowered his large body. He knelt before Vessia without hesitation, all because of a speck of dust on the lady’s face. He willingly humbled himself, as if pride was unnecessary to achieve his goal.
Before reaching out to her, the man asked for her understanding.
“I apologize.”
As Vessia nodded, Couven brought his face closer. He thoroughly checked the lady’s face for any dust, hair, or eyebrow.
His heated eyes roamed over her small face. The beast-like man brought his face so close that they could feel each other’s breath.
Couven’s warm breath tickled Vessia’s face. The pungent smell of oil stimulated her sense of smell. The man’s unusually reddish lips filled Vessia’s vision.
“You’re too close.”
“Don’t move around.”
A large hand approached as if to cover her face. Couven delicately pushed aside the hair that was fluttering like willow branches. He was extremely careful not to let his hand touch the lady’s face.
The painter did not step back right away. Instead, he scrutinized the lady’s pale face in detail.
“I moved your bangs because they seemed to be touching your face. Is there anything else that bothers you?”
“No, I’m fine now. Thank you.”
Couven stood up without hesitation after hearing her answer. He returned to his seat and put on his gloves again. He held a pencil and drew the sketch with his defined lips pursed.
He drew for a long time, but he seemed dissatisfied. His brows furrowed deeply. The painter immediately erased the sketch with an eraser.
The man stared at Vessia again. He observed every detail that made up the lady’s appearance and captured it on the canvas.
‘The painting is turning out better than usual.’
Every time he moved his gaze from the canvas to where she was sitting, her bright yellow eyes was seen.
Couven felt an alluring aura from Vessia, who was looking at him. Also from her naturally poised attitude. Could she be a doll?
She was usually calm and quiet, to the point of seeming unreal, but she was surprisingly playful when dealing with him.
When he painted with oil paints, he would have to vividly express her contrasting sides.
“The sketch is done, so you can move now.”
Vessia put down the bouquet and got up from the armchair. She walked straight to the painter and stood before the canvas, which was as tall as she was. The lady observed the blurry yet confident lines.
Perhaps because it lacked color, or because the figure drawn up to her waist was too large, her portrait felt very unfamiliar and awkward.
Her hair, face, earrings, necklace, dress, her clasped hands, and the bouquet in them.
The painter marked what color to use for each part he had drawn. The letters were light enough that only he could see them.
While Vessia was looking at the sketch, Couven rummaged through the paint box to find the colors he would use to depict her.
He compared the paints here and there at a distance far enough not to draw her attention. He brought the paints close enough to almost touch the hem of her dress that was brushing the floor.
He squeezed even amounts of paint onto his palette. He poured drying oil and turpentine into small containers for mixing with the oil paints, and walnut oil for cleaning the brushes. He also neatly placed a rag soaked in water.
“……”
After finishing his preparations, Couven opened all the windows in the studio. A breeze carrying the fresh scent of grass swept through the space.
The painter took a satisfied breath.
The smell of oil is not good for the body, so the outside air must circulate while he was painting.
Couven moved to adjust the light. He opened the window, checked that the light pouring inside was not excessive or insufficient, and returned to his seat.
The lady, who had been paying attention to the painting as if she had been nailed down, came to her senses at the smell of the paint that the painter had brought.
“I’ll put on a simple base color. Please take a seat.”
Vessia put a bouquet of flowers on her lap. She tried to take the exact same posture as when he drew the sketch.
Whenever Couven stared at her for a long time to add color, she wanted to avoid his eyes because she felt awkward for no reason. The man’s sharp eyes stung her chest as if they were piercing her heart.
The painter mixed the paints he had squeezed onto the palette. His eyes relaxed as he pondered what color to apply to the canvas. A slightly sullen expression. She was happy to be the only one who could see his sharp eyes lose their strength.
“Hmm…”
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