Iris's shyness was slightly stirred by her father mentioning the betrothal, but she immediately cooled upon hearing her mother's words.
She realized that her parents had always been thinking of their own interests, never paying much attention to her feelings.
Seeing her mother's hand about to touch the painting, she suddenly stepped forward and carefully took it in her arms, unceremoniously pushing her mother's hand away.
Her face was resolute, and her voice was unprecedentedly cold: "I will never let you auction this painting!"
"From this moment on, no one has the right to touch my paintings without my consent!"
With that, ignoring their reactions, she hugged the easel and the precious painting, decisively turned, and quickly left the garden.
The faces of the two left on the spot became extremely ugly.
Iris's mother stamped her feet in anger and shouted at her daughter's distant back: "Iris! Have you grown wings?! How dare you disobey your own parents?!"
She was about to run after her to grab the painting, but as soon as she took a step, her husband firmly grabbed her arm.
Iris's father shook his head, signaling her to calm down. Although his face was equally grim, a note of reason remained.
There must be a reason for Iris's sudden toughness.
The daughter who previously didn't even dare to speak loudly now dared to directly reject their request; that was too big a change.
Moreover, the Grand Duke of Terra clearly had a significant fondness for Iris, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to be her model.
At this stage, if they treated Iris too roughly,
and the Grand Duke found out, he would inevitably form a very bad impression of the family, and this important marriage would be completely ruined.
......
Karl, suspended above the manor, had originally planned to observe for a few days.
As a result, over the next three days, he heard almost nothing but endless arguments from Iris's parents.
The topic always revolved around how to make their daughter "obedient," how to make her "contribute more" to the family, and constantly forcing Iris to hand over the painting.
The constant noise, like the buzzing of flies in his ears, irritated Karl.
He simply temporarily shut down most of his senses, leaving only the induction of the protective spells; after all, Iris and the painting were protected.
Until the fifth day, Karl, who was meditating, suddenly opened his eyes.
He felt that the protection placed on Iris's body and the painting had been triggered.
He immediately came to, his gaze piercing through the clouds and roofs, looking down.
What drew his attention was a chaotic scene in Iris's dedicated studio.
The painting, carefully covered with cloth, was at that moment propped up in a corner.
Iris's mother was unconscious in the corner of the room, covered in paint splatters, brightly and confusedly.
Beneath her were broken easels and scattered painting tools, and her right palm was dark, emitting several wisps of white smoke.
Iris stood in the center of the room, her face a little frightened and confused.
Her body was surrounded by a golden light, and prismatic clover-shaped runes hovered over her entire body, forming a protective shield.
Gradually, she understood what was happening, and her emotions gradually calmed.
She hesitated whether to take a small step forward to check on her mother, but in the end, she stopped.
Her father looked like an aristocrat who had lost his composure—disheveled hair and disheveled clothes, barely standing with the support of two guards.
His face was a mix of intense shock, panic, and uncontrollable anger.
He roared loudly at Iris: "You! Look what you've done to your mother?!"
Iris sighed softly, shook her head, and tried to explain, her voice calm but very tired: "Father, believe it or not, I did not harm my mother."
"It was her... when she tried to steal and forcefully take my painting, she was repelled by the painting's power."
"She is your mother! How can taking your things be considered theft?!" He completely ignored the explanation and angrily interrupted Iris.
"Everything you have is ours, and even you are ours! How dare you?! What have we taught you?!"
Suddenly, he turned to the two guards beside him and shouted sharply: "What are you still standing there for?! Catch her for me!"
The two guards exchanged glances, their faces full of embarrassment, but under the master's stern gaze, they had to steel themselves and step forward.
They reluctantly whispered to Iris: "I'm sorry, miss, it's the master's order..."
As they spoke, they cautiously reached out, trying to touch Iris, who was glowing with golden light.
Listening to her father's unreasonable words, which treated her entirely as private property, not a daughter,
the last traces of guilt, confusion, and reluctance in Iris's heart finally completely dissipated, turning into cold ashes.
The initial confusion in her eyes was replaced by an unprecedented, strong desire for freedom.
The moment the two guards' palms touched the golden glow,
BANG! BANG! With two muffled sounds, both guards were repelled by the glow, flying backward in pain.
They crashed into the studio door, shattering the wooden door to pieces.
Iris's father hastily dodged to the side to avoid being hit by the guards.
He looked at his daughter, who was still standing safely, his face full of disbelief and helpless panic.
Iris no longer looked at him; she stepped forward and carefully lifted the cloth covering the painting.
She thought that when she touched the painting, she would be counterattacked as well.
But she took the painting off the broken easel and held it tightly to herself.
The golden glow was extremely gentle with her, without the slightest rejection, and an involuntary sweet smile appeared on her lips.
She remembered Karl's words: this protection was meant to protect her, not to hurt her.
Finally, she looked intently at her father, who was hiding in the corner, his face full of fear and terror.
Then, holding the painting that symbolized her new life, she took firm steps.
She walked out of that messy studio, without looking back, out of the magnificent cage she had been imprisoned in for so many years.
Iris's father stood in a daze, watching his daughter's figure walk down the corridor and gradually move away.
Only when Iris's figure was almost at the edge of his vision did he suddenly wake up: Iris was leaving the manor, she was leaving this house!
A strong panic instantly seized him, and he rushed into the corridor, hoarsely shouting in the direction Iris had gone.
"Iris! Come back! Come back quickly! Father knows he was wrong! I'm sorry!!"
He turned around incoherently and shouted in panic: "Guards! What about the guards?! Where are the people?! Stop her! Stop her for me!!"