Though I’m a Homebody, I Found Myself in a Dark Captive Genre

“So, you mean we should draw it like this?”

The sight of elderly gentlemen huddled together and earnestly discussing was, to be honest, a little amusing.

“No….”

On the canvas, where professional touches were unmistakably evident, a single jewel-like apple was rendered with breathtaking beauty.

The problem? They had spent half the day meticulously drawing just that one apple.

Fearing that I’d be trapped in this room forever if this pace continued, I leaned closer to Sir Brown, the former royal painter who seemed to be their representative, and whispered cautiously.

“M-maybe you could relax your strokes a bit?”

“Oh, indeed. These days, lighter brushstrokes seem to be the trend rather than heavy ones. Don’t you think so, Sir Robid?”

Suddenly called upon, Sir Robid scratched his half-bald head.

“Hm, I’m not sure. Isn’t this aggressive style of painting more of a foreign technique, not something native to our Kleitan traditions?”

“It’s not imitation; it’s evolution. Progress!”

These men often lost themselves in conversations no one else could follow, diving deep into their world of artistry.

Before the discussion could heat up further, I intervened again.

“What I meant was… you only need to draw rough, basic figures. You don’t have to put so much effort into it. What’s important is conveying the story.”

“Ah, so you’re saying the drawings should tell a story?”

Sir Brown’s face lit up. He turned to Sir Kedrick, who had been quietly focused on his work.

“Isn’t the world of art profound? It evolves every day and takes on new meanings.”

Sir Kedrick, who had been silent until now, replied in a serious tone.

“…New art, indeed. This must be the influence of the Blaire duchy.”

“Haha…”

‘No, no, no!’

I swallowed a silent scream at what felt like betrayal from Sir Kedrick, who had seemed the most level-headed.

Resentment toward the Duke of Blaire flared anew.

All I wanted was to pass the time with a casual comic book. This wasn’t supposed to be some monumental masterpiece!

But for some reason, these elder painters seemed to treat the project as a defining task of their lifetimes, pouring in overwhelming enthusiasm.

Which made sense, considering Liam had apparently offered an astronomical salary to recruit them….

“How much? Millions of trios!?”

“There’s nothing the wealth of the Duke of Blaire cannot achieve.”

As someone who, despite being a princess, had lived as poor as a street beggar, I was floored by the Duke’s extravagance.

“Anyway, my lady, we understand what you want. And also what we should include.”

“Huh?”

Sir Brown, who had been introduced to me as a noblewoman from a minor branch family to conceal my true identity, bowed politely.

His serious demeanor only made me more uneasy.

“…What do you mean by ‘include’?”

Though I asked cautiously, my question held no sway over the painters who had already retreated into their own world.

“It will take some time.”

“Indeed. We have much to coordinate among ourselves.”

Without waiting for my response, they bustled out, murmuring amongst themselves.

Left alone in the empty studio, I trudged out, desperately trying to gather my scattered thoughts.

Simultaneously, a wave of intense frustration washed over me.

‘I just wanted to relax in my room!’

Somehow, I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that this comic book project was only going to make my life more complicated.

* * *

There’s a song that says sad premonitions never miss.

In my hands was a large, heavy book, and before me were three elderly men staring at me with expectant eyes.

Sir Robid, standing at the forefront, spread his arms proudly.

“This is a comic book detailing the great achievements of the first Duke of Blaire.”

“Ah….”

In other words… a biography?

My trembling hands slowly turned the cover of the oversized book.

And, as expected.

“Haha…”

A hollow laugh escaped me as I skimmed through the contents.

To summarize the magnificent comic: it started with the birth of the first Duke of Blaire.

Who, apparently, hatched from an egg.

By the age of five, he was already spewing fire to conquer monsters.

At ten, he grew wings from his underarms that let him fly and create gale-force winds to defeat enemies with a single flap.

Not to mention crafting grenades from pinecones, crossing Lake Miro on a single leaf, and many more absurd feats….

‘At this point, wasn’t the first Duke himself just a monster?’

But it didn’t end there.

Snap.

I shut the bizarre comic book with a decisive motion. I couldn’t bear to read any further.

‘It’s just so… boring….’

I couldn’t bring myself to tell the elderly artists, who were watching me with shining eyes, but this comic was dreadfully dull.

Apart from its ridiculous premise and absurdly high-quality illustrations, it offered nothing.

There wasn’t a poignant love story, a chilling tale of revenge—just an invincible monster of a Duke and his feats.

And if there was any moral to be gleaned, it was: oppose the Duke of Blaire and you die.

Given that this comic had been commissioned by the Duke himself, it almost felt like his grand plan.

‘Is this his way of saying, “Submit or face my pinecone grenades?”’

If so…

If that really was his intent…

‘I must never cross him.’

Hahaha.

I forced out a bitter laugh.

“How is it?”

Then, Sir Brown, the leader of this bizarre biographical comic project, cautiously asked.

“I heard from His Grace that you would be the one to give the final evaluation.”

“Well, that’s….”

I turned my head, trying to avoid their expectant gazes.

Of course, I wanted to say something nice—to praise their efforts and assure them it was enough.

But… but!

‘I can’t lie, even as a courtesy.’

Compared to the masterpieces I’d read in the modern world, this was just too much.

No heartrending love stories. No spine-chilling revenge tales. Just the ludicrous, storm-summoning underarms of the Duke.

After a moment of hesitation, I raised my head again.

“I think… we might need to reconsider the… purpose of this project.”

“Purpose? This work is meant to honor the greatness of the Duke of Blaire!”

Sir Robid’s bald pate flushed red, as if he’d taken my words as an insult to their art.

I raised my hands in a placating gesture and continued calmly.

“What I mean is…”

If I failed to persuade them now, I would be stuck with a massively expensive pile of useless paper.

That had to be avoided at all costs.

“The most important thing is fun. Sir Brown, do you think the first Duke’s biography is fun?”

“…It was drawn to praise his achievements.”

In other words, fun wasn’t even a consideration?

Sensing my pointed gaze, he quickly added, almost defensively.

“Simple entertainment-focused art is often looked down upon by scholars, is it not?”

“Indeed. To dedicate the labor of such skilled artists to mere entertainment would be wasteful,” Sir Kedrick chimed in.

I shook my head. Art wouldn’t remain the sole domain of the aristocracy forever.

Art should be lighter, more accessible, and, most importantly, enjoyable. The world I came from had proven that.

“People started drawing, and making a profession of it, to bring joy and happiness to others. Isn’t that the essence of art?”

“…….”

“That’s what I meant. Nothing’s changed about that.”

Thunk.

Sir Brown’s arms, which had been stiff with tension, fell limp.

Sir Robid and Sir Kedrick, too, looked at me with expressions that were hard to decipher.

As silence enveloped the room, I felt heat rising to my face.

‘Did I just ramble nonsense?’

But what choice did I have?

Even if someone paid me to, I couldn’t read this again.

“…My lady.”

After a long pause, Sir Brown took a step closer, his expression softened.

“It seems we may have lost sight of our original intent after spending so long in this field.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You’re right. I started painting simply because it was fun. But somewhere along the way, we began dressing up our work with lofty words, trying to elevate ourselves through it.”

His wrinkled eyes seemed to glisten, though I didn’t want to believe it.

“Th-that’s not true. You’re all remarkable.”

“Hahaha. No need for flattery. To truly be remarkable, as you said, our work must bring enjoyment. So…”

In a serious tone, Sir Brown asked,

“What should we do?”

What should they do?

I plunged into deep thought.