Chapter 5: Going to work is Fun

The Joy of Going to Work

Chloe’s adjustment to the atelier was… remarkably simple.

“Wait, has our studio always been this bright?”

“It’s because the workshop master’s friend’s daughter is so cute.”

“That voice though…”

Once again, a woman of the Turing family lived up to her face.

The end.

But did Chloe use her cuteness as an excuse to slack off?

Not at all.

“Chloe, could you come here for a sec?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She would scurry over, hands neatly clasped, standing by politely.

Then, if your eyes happened to meet hers, she’d tilt her little head in silence—
and wow, just… wow.

Honestly.

Seriously.

“Ehehe.”

Just looking at her made you smile.

A girl with a naturally adorable face, and a full spectrum of expressions to match—
she was a walking, breathing art doll.

And it wasn’t just about looks.

She pulled her weight.

“Oh! Let me help with that! Give me the trash!”

Brushes were tidied up swiftly.

The studio sparkled under her care.

Errands? 

Done like clockwork.

No matter the task, she tackled it with a bright smile and boundless energy.

In short, Chloe flipped the entire atelier on its head.

And considering it used to be a chaotic mess, you could even say she restored order.

But all of that was on the surface.

Her real role was more mascot than master.

No one really expected Chloe to be good at the work.

And the reason was simple:

She was still a kid.

Eight years old—

Just old enough, legally, to start working.

But definitely not old enough to be good at it.

And to top it off, Chloe never displayed her own artwork in the studio.

To her, that was only natural.

“Are you really okay with this?”

“Yes. I’ve realized art just isn’t for me.”

She said it nonchalantly to Groomrok, but…

“It’s not even like those paintings were really mine to begin with.”

They were pieces she’d tossed out carelessly, just to sell.

Boasting about them would only come back to bite her later.

“If people start calling me a prodigy or something, I’m doomed.”

It wasn’t talent. Just mechanical repetition.

The accidental by-product of an ability she barely respected.

Chloe had no way of living up to anyone’s expectations.

Which is why her position stayed simple:

The workshop master’s friend’s daughter.

A temporary apprentice, at best.

“If anyone tries to act superior to Chloe, they’re dead.”

That said, she was doted on far more than anyone else.

Okay, a lot more.

“She’s too sweet for anyone to mess with.”

“Just hope she never cries or blames herself over something…”

“If there’s anyone twisted enough to want to see Chloe get scolded and tear up—please confess now. Starting with me.”

“Dude, what is wrong with you.”

“I’m just saying… your aesthetic sense is admirable, Master.”

Are you all out of your damn minds?”

“Our atelier is doomed.”

The continent of Runtraval might have had a few blind spots when it came to human rights, but it wasn’t completely devoid of common sense.

Expecting an eight-year-old to perform at an adult’s level?

Even here, that kind of shamelessness was rare.

Not nonexistent, unfortunately—but rare.

That’s why—

“Chloe, could you hand me paint number three? Oh, that’s the—”

“Here you go. It’s the green one used for leaf detailing, right?”

“…Huh?”

It wasn’t her looks that shocked the painters most.

 It was her work sense.

“Wait, wait, hold on—Chloe, you memorized all that already?”

“More or less. I still have a lot to learn.”

No smugness. Just a sincere, hardworking answer.

Whispers began to spread—not from the apprentices, but from the artists themselves.

“How is she remembering everything without missing a beat? I wasn’t like that at her age.”

“She probably just memorized it the moment she heard it.”

“She’s eight! Eight! Is this for real?”

It wasn’t like the painters or the other apprentices had taught her much.

All they did was walk her through things briefly on her first day.

They’d deliberately kept the pace slow, knowing kids couldn’t memorize everything at once.

But Chloe had.

 All of it.

On day one.

After hearing each thing exactly once.

It was as if she had a notepad inside her head.

Beep boop beep.

Tap-tap-girl, respond.

[Yes. How may I assist you today?]

Show me the note I wrote—exactly as I wrote it. Don’t change a single word!

She used the tap-tap system in a way that didn’t leave room for chaos.

Add to that the practical experience from her past life?

Naturally, her work efficiency blew her fellow apprentices out of the water.

“Man, this kid’s got real instincts.”

“I think I only hit that level… maybe in my late twenties?”

“Dricsley, you’re still 21.”

“Which means I’ve still got room to grow, thank you.”

“Just say your memory sucks and move on.”

What started as chatter about her looks was now dominated by awe at her performance.

Everyone gradually recognized Chloe’s competence.

None more so than Groomrok.

“So, how’s the work treating you?”

“I’m doing okay. I only cleaned the places I had permission for today. If you assign someone to help, I can start organizing the storage room too.”

Every casual check-in with his friend’s daughter turned into a full-on report session.

Groomrok blinked slowly, his heavy eyelids sagging.

“You want to organize the storage room?”

“Yes. I’d like to go through the inventory—brushes, paint, that kind of thing—during downtime.”

After a moment’s thought, Groomrok turned to his top disciple.

“…Dricsley. Do you have any idea what our current stock is?”

“Gwah! Khek!”

“Don’t act like a goblin.”

“Sorry, Master. I have no clue.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know either. Never actually counted it.”

Chloe blinked.

What is with these people?

Then it hit her.

These were purebred artists.

You couldn’t judge them through the lens of a logistics officer.

Right… even in my past life, I remember seeing artist studios on TV.

 They were all disaster zones.

Messy workspaces were practically a badge of honor in the art world.

And taking actual inventory?

That probably made her the weirdo.

Well, so what if they didn’t leave a proper handover?

In her old office job, situations like this were routine.

Chloe didn’t click her tongue or complain—she just beamed.

“Got it! I’ll check the inventory myself. I’ll report to you whenever something comes up!”

“R-Right… just don’t overdo it, okay?”

Chloe answered politely, though inwardly she was a bit puzzled.

What was with their reactions?

It was like she’d just said something insane.

There’s gotta be some kind of basic tracking system for materials coming in and out, right?

Even the Joseon Dynasty had that level of admin, didn’t it?

…Not that she knew for sure. She wasn’t a history major.

“Chloe! Come here a sec!”

“Com-ing~!”

But busy bees don’t get time to overthink.

Chloe cheerfully moved on, proceeding to normalize the atelier.

By the standards of a Korean musical instrument import company in the 21st century.

Which is to say, several centuries ahead of the current norm.

“Gallon-sunbae! Why is that shelf empty?”

“Oh, apprentices like us don’t wanna bother with ladders, so we just use it to store backup brushes.”

“Which do we use more often—glass powder or that shelf’s contents?”

“Huh?”

If she didn’t know the art supply in question, she’d ask.

Establishing who was responsible was just basic procedure.

She only reorganized things she knew were safe to touch.

Efficiency with zero risk.

“Between the two, probably the glass powder? Since the teachers mix their own paints from scratch.”

“Mm, makes sense. Then I’ll move the backup brushes to a drawer. They take up too much shelf space, so I’ll split them by type… then cross-check everything with the storage room’s inventory and get a total item count—”

Chloe scratched her head as she jotted things down.

It wasn’t just her conversation partner who froze.

“W-Wait! What did you just say?”

“Oh thank god, it wasn’t just me.”

“Don’t worry. Everyone looks just as confused. Except Chloe.”

Chloe tilted her head at their expressions.

Then clapped her hands like something clicked.

“Ah! I’m not great at explaining, huh? I meant this kind of form.”

She grabbed a blank sheet and drew a simple chart.

Super clear.

Super easy to follow.

“How’s this? Too basic?”

“…What even is this?”

“It’s a materials logbook!”

Materials?

Logbook?

The apprentices stared blankly at the paper.

Chloe chewed her lip, then quickly turned her eyes away.

She misunderstood their stunned silence.

“What? Is it that hard to read? I even wrote the chart titles clearly…”

She’d drawn it all by hand, putting her heart into it.

Sure, it looked like a kid’s school project.

Because… well, she was a kid.

Wasn’t bad, all things considered!

So stop looking at her like that.

That’s emotional abuse.

Ssssssiiiiigh…

Annoyed, Chloe crumpled the paper a little.

“It’d be a pain to erase and rewrite every time, so we can split the chart into left and right columns. Use the right one for each time materials are taken out, and only adjust the left when the stock actually changes. That way—”

“Wait—stop! I need to take notes! Let me write this down!”

A materials logbook.

 It was the first time they’d seen anything like it.

In fact, even the very idea of a structured form was unfamiliar.

Most of the apprentices hadn’t even seen a chart before.

Not just in Groomrok’s atelier—

Even across the continent of Luntreval, maybe only a lord’s personal accountants ever used stuff like this.

But…

It looks kinda tedious at first glance …but it’s actually really easy to understand.

They might not have had much formal education, but they weren’t dumb.

The value and efficiency of Chloe’s system came across instantly—pure intuition.

“Hey, give that back! I didn’t get to see it properly!”

“I’ll just draw a new one, okay? This time I’ll—hey! I said don’t take it! Stop! I was gonna throw that one away!”

“It’s fine. Kinda messy, but it’s cute, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Wait, isn’t it dae-jang, not dae-jang-i?”

“Shh, let it go. She’ll pout again.”

Anyway, the utility was undeniable.

It didn’t take long for the others to go from listening to Chloe’s suggestions…to basically following her lead.

Within a week, she was the de facto apprentice leader.

Huh. I can manage this, I guess. Even if the pay sucks.

She hadn’t exactly volunteered for the job.

It’d been forced on her.

Still, she wasn’t planning to half-ass it.

Slacking off for no reason went against her values—and it would feel like betraying Groomrok’s trust.

But more than that…

It’s… not a bad workplace, actually.

It’d be perfect if they just paid her.

Then she wouldn’t have to take weird AI commissions on the side.

Still, better not get carried away. No one likes a parachute hire acting all high and mighty.

If she wasn’t even getting paid, the last thing she needed was resentment on top of that.
So Chloe set her policy:

No touching anything private or sensitive.

Just optimize logistics and workflow.

Naturally, anything she moved got logged and reported.

That was Chloe’s idea of “playing it safe.”

The problem was… even just doing that caused visible changes.

What the heck?

Why is everything suddenly easier?

Usually, when a work environment changes too fast, people get annoyed.

But this time, the artists had no complaints.

Because it was just too convenient.

“…Was our studio always this spacious?”

 “Chloe and the kids moved stuff around a bit. Opened it up.”

“And that new shelf over there?”

“Chloe and the apprentices threw it together. Personal lockers. She said we can ask for more if we want.”

Tools were easier to find when needed.

Rarely-used supplies got moved to the back storage.

That alone freed up a ton of space—

enough to make the atelier feel like a different building.

This isn’t just good instincts. She was clearly trained in this.

Groomrok’s atelier—

Just a mid-tier workshop in an artistic city,

but suddenly, it felt like something more.

It was the kind of workplace that couldn’t even dream of competing with Chloe’s level of “modernization.”

“Hey, Chloe. Your father was a royal musician, right?”

“Yes. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, no! Nothing like that! It’s just—the way you work is so organized.”

The young painter who had once asked Chloe to model (and been politely turned down) spoke up, cautiously offering her theory.

“Did your dad teach you how to run a workshop? Like… is this how they do things in the palace?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so? Dad’s atelier back home is way messier than this.”

…Then what are you?

It was a question she didn’t dare ask aloud.

 But it echoed in the minds of every artist in the room.

They didn’t know—

Chloe didn’t know either—but maybe this much change was inevitable.

There’s a term: anachronistic thinking—opinions that fall behind the progress of the world.

Even on 21st-century Earth, there were miracle training methods like “your shoulders get stronger the more you use them.”

And that had nothing to do with intelligence.

Geniuses could still cling to outdated methods.

Fools could operate advanced tools created by geniuses.

It’s only when intelligence and productivity become more equalized that we call something “modern.”

In that sense—

The introduction of a forward-thinking idea can accelerate progress.

Even in fields the innovator never expected.

And elsewhere, not far from Chloe—

“Bow your heads! Witness the divine masterpiece!”

“Get that grotesque thing out of here!”

“I am not grotesque! This is independent art, I’ll have you know!”

“What? That filth is independent art now?! What nonsense is this?!”

The art world of Yaltessance—was having a much louder, much messier reaction to that same “innovation.”