Roman sat cross-legged on the bed, comparing the sketch he had made with the one Louis had drawn earlier. His small brows were furrowed in deep concentration.
Page after page lay scattered around him.
It had already been an hour, and despite his efforts, he remained dissatisfied with every drawing he made.
"Young Master," the maid said gently, stepping closer, "it is time for lunch. Let us wash your hands, and then you can eat with the Duke and the Duchess."
Roman shook his head.
"I'm not hungry, Miss," he said stubbornly. "I want to draw like my uncle. He did it so well."
Just then, a familiar soft voice reached him.
"You cannot learn to draw like that in a single day, my dear."
Roman immediately straightened and turned toward the door.
"Mama!"
Eilika walked in with a gentle smile, her eyes falling upon the scattered papers around him.
"You've been putting your whole heart into these sketches, haven't you?" she asked.
Roman pouted slightly.
