Apparently, I’m a Poisonous Woman Who Sells One-Night Dreams, but I Ended Up Awakening a Hero’s Devoted Love - Chapter 1.23

The next day.

Mariadoll, who had woken up later than usual and had breakfast in her room, decided to drink her post-meal tea on the balcony.

As she gazed at the mountain across the way, she heard the sound of feet kicking up dirt right below. Wondering about the continuous noise, she peered over the railing and saw Jerf swinging his sword.

As expected of a man once hailed as a hero in the war against a neighboring country, his movements were swift, and it was hard to believe he had a leg injury.

(Even though he drags his leg slightly when walking, you’d never think he was injured now.)

Upon closer inspection, his swordplay minimized the movement of his right leg.

Though she knew nothing about sword techniques, his rapid movements were unlike the usually nonchalant Jerf.

“He’s cool…”

The words slipped out unintentionally, and Mariadoll covered her mouth, blushing.

(W-what am I saying? But anyone would think the same seeing such a handsome man swinging a sword.)

But what was this? This pounding in her chest.

She cautiously peeked out again, her eyes following Jerf’s movements.

Jerf planted his sword in the ground and wiped his sweat with the hem of his shirt. A glimpse of his toned abs made Mariadoll fluster and crouch down as if hiding.

(T-this makes me look like I’m peeping! T-the guilt is overwhelming! R-right, I’ll bring him a towel!)

She felt guilty because she was acting furtively.

Mariadoll pulled a towel from her duffel bag, got a water pitcher and glass from the kitchen, and headed to the well in the back. She soaked the towel in cold water, wrung it out tightly, and went over to Jerf.

Even though it was still morning, swinging a sword under the summer sun must be hot.

Plus, Jerf was wearing long sleeves.

She called out to him when he seemed to be at a good stopping point, and he lowered his sword stance and turned around.

“You’ll collapse if you don’t hydrate.”

“Thanks, perfect timing.”

She draped the wet towel over his arm, poured water from the pitcher into the glass, and handed it to him. Jerf took it and gulped it down noisily, as if it tasted delicious. Next, she handed him the wet towel, and he wiped his face and neck with equal relish.

Mariadoll lived in the commoners’ district downtown.

Naturally, most houses didn’t have baths, and in summer, she sometimes saw men bathing shirtless with water.

In contrast, Jerf wore his shirt buttoned up neatly and crisply. She wondered if it didn’t feel uncomfortable stuck to him with sweat, but he didn’t even try to roll up his sleeves.

“I’m thinking of heading to Maderick’s workshop after I wash up. Is that alright?”

“Yes. In that case, I’ll wait at the entrance in thirty minutes. I’ll let Clemence know.”

“Got it. He was painting in the same spot as yesterday since early this morning. That guy really loves painting, huh?”

“Perhaps it’s our father’s bloodline. He’s definitely more talented than I am.”

“Your father’s?”

Mariadoll tilted her head, wondering if she hadn’t mentioned it before.

“Legacy is my great-uncle. So Clemence and I are second cousins.”

“Is that so? Well, I thought you were living with Legacy and them like family, but that explanation clears things up.”

“My grandparents have passed away, so they’re my only blood relatives.”

“Alright then,” Mariadoll said, taking the towel back from Jerf and heading to Clemence.

Clemence was sitting in the same spot as yesterday, painting intently.

His posture resembled his father’s, though on a different scale.

“Clemence, are you already adding color?”

She spoke while looking at the paints at his feet, and Clemence jumped a few centimeters from his seated position. Quite skillful.

“M-Mariadoll. What’s up?”

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes, so get ready. And, you’re still good at painting skies, huh?”

“Y-yeah. Thanks. Well, I’ll clean up then… oh.”

She forcibly snatched the sketchbook from the flustered Clemence, squinted her light blue eyes, and stared at it intently.

“Mariadoll, give it back.”

“Clemence, what did you use to paint these clouds?”

“U-um, that’s…”

“I’ve told you over and over not to use that. I’m sure I explained the reasons properly. Again and again…”

“I get it! I know. Just this once.”

“You said that last time too.”

Mariadoll glared at him as he hurriedly packed away the paints, trying to hide them.

Clemence seized the chance to snatch back the sketchbook, snapped it shut, and stuffed it into his bag with the paints.

“Well, I’ll go get ready too.”

“Wait, we’re not done talking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Before Mariadoll could ask what was fine, Clemence dashed into the mansion like a startled hare.

Mariadoll sighed and followed Clemence back to the mansion, thinking she needed to get ready too.

Thirty minutes later, Jerf appeared in a rough outfit: a faded beige linen shirt and trousers. His slightly damp hair was somehow alluring.

(Why does this person exude such pointless charm?)

And yet, he acted completely nonchalant, as if indifferent to romance, which only made people around him more determined. They became desperate to catch his eye and become someone special to him.

Jerf opened the carriage door, looked at the seat, and exclaimed “Huh?” in surprise, turning back to Mariadoll.

“Are you bringing this too?”

On the seat lay a rolled-up white canvas fabric.

“The colored rocks are crushed and dissolved in water, right? So, I thought I’d apply the colored water to the canvas fabric. If it works, it might sell as paint.”

“I see, so that was the main reason you wanted to come here.”

“Yes,” Mariadoll nodded and placed her foot on the carriage step. Jerf swiftly offered his hand, casually escorting her. Clemence was already sitting next to the coachman, whom he’d become quite friendly with.

“Just because it becomes colored water doesn’t mean it’ll work as paint, right?”

“Correct. Since it’s mineral-based, the chances are low. Sometimes it changes color when exposed to sunlight. Plus, it might crack or crumble off, which makes it unsuitable.”

“So, you’re going to actually try painting with it.”

“I think it’s well worth testing. If it mixes not just with water but also oil, it could be used for oil paintings.”

If it worked, Mariadoll might get the colors she desired.

That could be a major turning point for painters.

“If it becomes usable paint, it might become one of this region’s industries. Since the minerals stopped being mined, life here has gotten much poorer. I’ve been wondering if there’s anything we can do. Please, let me help.”

“You’re already helping plenty.”

Mariadoll giggled and smiled back at Jerf, who was sitting beside her.

Somehow, Jerf’s seat had changed from diagonally across to right next to her, but Mariadoll accepted it naturally.

The carriage passed through a rundown town, turned right at the orchard, advanced a bit further, and then stopped.

When they got off, two single-story wooden buildings stood there, one of which seemed to be the workshop.

“Lord Jerf, is this the place?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It was the coachman’s first time coming to the workshop, and Jerf had described the location beforehand.

Jerf himself had come by horse several times and pointed familiarly to a tree a short distance away.

“Park the carriage under that tree over there.”

“Understood.”

Just as the carriage departed, Maderick emerged from the workshop.

He was holding the rocks in question.