Preserved Beauty

But so what?

Even if Nefer pitied her, nothing would change.

It only felt uncomfortable.

Being handled like an object or stared at with sticky desire was something she experienced as naturally as breathing, and she could brush it off.

But this kind of gaze—pity—she had never received before, and she found it unbearable.

That’s why I even lied to Lord Fren.

Thinking of it made her shudder, but Vanessa managed to maintain a perfect blank expression as always.

Seeing the flawless attitude of a well-trained s*ave, Nefer merely pursed his lips and spoke gently:

“You can go now.”

“Yes. Then I’ll take my leave.”

Vanessa stood and began to walk.

The farther she moved away from Nefer, the deeper she felt herself sinking into mud.

She could not erase the expression Nefer wore when he pitied her.

Her breathing turned uneven.

Nefer pitying her meant he acknowledged her as a living being.

How strange.

Being treated as alive felt worse than being treated as an object.

Vanessa imagined Nefer’s face beside the countless slaves he discarded and replaced without hesitation.

To see humans as living beings and yet to cycle through them like that…

Nefer—or rather, any other race—had no right to pity a human.

Surely any human would say the same.

When Vanessa returned to the party hall, she lifted her head.

Humans looked even paler than before, desperately trying to please the Sirens.

If other races had never oppressed humans, they would never have become slaves.

It was like inflicting a wound and then offering medicine.

Vanessa grimaced.

How pathetic she was, sinking into these thoughts after receiving one brief, pitying glance—and even lying to Fren because of it.

All that because of a useless, pitiful look.

She thought Fren’s training had erased her impulsive nature, but maybe not.

She needed more meditation time before she really caused trouble.

So she approached Fren.

Having disembarked from the raft, Fren was speaking with a female Siren with soft pink fins.

Sensing Vanessa’s presence, Fren immediately ended the conversation.

“See you next time, Kryll.”

“Okay. I’ll look forward to it, Fren!”

The Siren called Kryll called out excitedly and embraced the waiting female s*ave beside her.

If Vanessa remembered correctly, Kryll was known as Ye-Mi-Se—“the Siren Crazy for Women.”

Many slaves had lost wives or daughters to her.

But to Fren, she was simply a wealthy patron.

Kryll had bought more than twenty pieces by herself—as long as the painting featured a beautiful woman, she would buy it regardless of price.

“Lord Fren.”

Fren pulled his gaze from Kryll, who was showering her s*ave with excessive affection, and looked at Vanessa.

Vanessa was still wet.

Fren looked fixedly at the visible curves beneath the clinging fabric and the droplets sliding down her skin, then stood.

Sirens who had been waiting for a chance to approach Fren hurriedly grabbed him.

“Oh my, Fren. Leaving already?”

“Yes.”

Fren wrapped his arm around Vanessa’s waist and rested his chin on her damp shoulder.

With a smiling gaze he said:

“I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Oh my…”

The Sirens blushed and flailed dramatically.

Fren felt Vanessa’s cold skin warm beneath his touch and laughed, pleased.

Holding tightly to Vanessa’s hand, he left the party.

Outside the hall, a quiet corridor stretched before them.

It felt like another world—like the lake had.

But this time the feeling was completely different.

Earlier she hadn’t been able to think at all.

Let’s go home quickly.

Now, countless thoughts crowded her mind.

Vanessa sensed instinctively that Fren was displeased.

It must be because Nefer kissed her cheek.

But if that’s the reason, shouldn’t he have been angry the moment Nefer touched me?

Hands or lips—it was all the same.

While Vanessa analyzed the reasons behind Fren’s anger, they arrived home.

Ignoring the greetings of the attendants, Fren went straight upstairs and immediately began drawing a bath.

Vanessa silently watched his back.

Fren stared at the filling tub without expression, then suddenly spoke.

“Vanessa.”

“…Yes.”

He turned to her with a heartbreakingly sweet smile.

“Let’s bathe.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa answered exactly as before.

Fren took a small vial from the shelf, stepped into the tub, and beckoned her.

When she sat at the edge, he reached toward her instantly.

“I’ll undress myself.”

“No. Stay still.”

He stripped off her clothing and commanded:

“Don’t move an inch.”

“Yes.”

Fren pressed a finger firmly to her lips.

“Don’t make a sound either.”

“……”

And Vanessa obeyed.

Satisfied, Fren removed the rest of her clothes—leaving nothing.

Even standing perfectly still, she breathed—alive.

That simple fact irritated him.

He pulled her forward and kissed her.

Fren usually kissed Vanessa for two reasons: pleasure, or overflowing affection.

But this time it was neither.

There was an object pressed between their tongues.

A pill.

He withdrew and spoke commandingly:

“Swallow.”

He really is angry.

Vanessa swallowed.

Her legs collapsed instantly.

Fren supported her and sat her at the bottom of the tub.

She went still—so still she looked dead.

Fren brushed water from her chin and jaw.

Then her body twitched faintly beneath his fingers.

The small movement made him deeply displeased.

Too many variables existed while she remained alive.

He rubbed the cheek where Nefer’s lips had touched—again and again.

She twitched once more.

Annoying.

Unbidden, Fren recalled his childhood—pinning butterflies after anesthetizing them, preserving them perfectly under glass.

His mother Sylvia had murmured:

“That butterfly is lucky. It can keep its most beautiful moment forever.”

Art and taxidermy were the same: preserving the most beautiful moment.

Fren looked at Vanessa.

The masterpiece he had molded for fifteen years was still beautiful.

But he knew—one small change could ruin a work instantly.

If someone defiled Vanessa again?

Unbearable.

Safer to preserve her exactly as she was.

Yet ironically, Fren didn’t want to.

Despite wanting her unbroken more than anything.

He leaned toward her and whispered:

“Not yet.”

One day he would preserve her.

But not now.

Vanessa was too precious, too alive.

And most of all—

He pressed his face to her chest.

Her heart beat steadily.

Proof she was living.

He murmured:

“I love this sound.”

Having decided not to kill her, Fren pulled Vanessa out of the bath.

He washed her thoroughly—especially the cheek Nefer had touched—until it turned red.

Then he dressed her in clean nightclothes, carried her to bed, and held her close.

Resting his head against her chest again, the heartbeat returned.

How ridiculous that such a sound mattered.

But it felt good. So he wouldn’t think too deeply.

If it had been anyone else, he would’ve pursued every answer to every question.

But with Vanessa, he didn’t want answers.

He only wanted time with her.

Fren whispered a farewell she could not hear:

“Good night, Vanessa.”

And he closed his eyes.

The night was silent, like a grave.