episode_0015

“Uh, Miss?”

It was a joke I made with Ms. Erica in mind?

Unlike Ms. Erica, who respected my idea, Miss Chris seemed truly shocked.

What does that make me?

“Is that so? You don’t trust me… Such, um, just a moment…”

-Scrape.

The moment I saw the young lady push her chair back and stand up, fireworks exploded in my head.

I absolutely couldn’t let her leave.

-Thwack!

“Huh?!”

“Our Miss Chris is so trustworthy! What I said wasn’t meant like that at all!”

“…Then what…?”

“Th-that, uh, well, hehehehe!”

“…What was that…?”

Pfft, Miss Chris, having burst into laughter, couldn’t control her mirth, giggling and chuckling madly.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Miss Chris, but rather that I’m such an outstanding individual who considers all possible outcomes…?”

“Alright, I get what you’re trying to say…”

I swore I would never joke about trust with Miss Chris again.

Seeing a woman’s tears always pains my heart.

I remembered how sad I was when Minji cried because she became my partner when we were kids.

“But do you know something?”

“…?”

“If you cry and then laugh…”

-Clang.

I had only brought up a joke to lighten the mood.

Miss Chris, holding her cherished hammer which was hanging on the wall, looked at me.

“Laugh?”

“…”

“Go on, tell me, I’m curious.”

Wasn’t that a joke only on Earth?

“It’s a good thing.”

“Hmph.”

Thank goodness, I almost ended up next to the sweet pancakes displayed in front of Shavrian.

“By the way, I haven’t seen you painting these days.”

“These days” only refers to the last few days, really.

The reason is simple.

Morning, noon, and night, I’m stuck with Miss Chris all the time; when would I have time to paint?

I was an artist who gained inspiration through animalistic senses.

If I don’t have personal time, I can’t get inspiration.

If I say that, she’ll get hurt again, won’t she?

“Is it because you don’t have a canvas?”

It was something I blurted out in a hurry, but it was also true.

My artist friend, Mister, used to give me a canvas every day, but since I haven’t gone to see him lately, I haven’t been able to paint.

“What? Didn’t you create them yourself?”

“I’m not some kind of special ability user…”

“You’re not?”

Miss Chris, genuinely puzzled.

Just what do you see me as, exactly?

I kindly corrected her misunderstanding.

“I get them from an acquaintance, but I haven’t had the chance to meet them for the past few days.”

“Ah, I see… Then, shall I give you some free time today?”

“Oh!”

“Sometimes you probably need some time to yourself too.”

I was grateful for the permission, but it felt like I had become a married man who had finally earned some leisure time after consulting with his wife.

After that, we chatted idly until our teacups were empty, and then we stood up.

Miss Chris is a busy person every day, so I should understand.

I quietly stopped by my room and called Blackie, who was building a home in the corner.

“Blackie.”

When I held up a piece of bread and waved it, slide, Blackie slid down a spiderweb, took the bread, and danced excitedly.

Isn’t this what it feels like to have a child?

Even if it suddenly called me “Dad,” I would fully understand.

After stroking cute Blackie’s head, I immediately left the mansion and rushed to my friend, Mister.

-Knock, knock, knock.

“Mister.”

-Slam!

Thud, thud, thud.

Through the opening of the door, which flew open as if about to shatter, three canvases flew out like throwing stars.

Exactly one a day; Mister had calculated the canvases he’d give me, even accounting for the days I didn’t come!

“Didn’t you throw them a bit too hard?”

Closing the dangling door, I entered Mister’s house and still admired his splendid atelier.

“I thought your passion for art had cooled.”

“I had some work.”

“Is that so? But you just naturally trespass into someone else’s studio?”

“Wow, what’s this?”

I discovered a painting opposite Mister, who was sitting in his chair, and admired it.

The magnificent colors and sketch were incomparable to my own scribbles.

But… the content of the painting was deeply unsettling.

Shavrian collapsing, and citizens rolling on the ground to escape the burning land.

Shavrian was being destroyed by something indescribable.

Judging by how he called my work “scribbles,” he must be a sane person… So why would he paint something that looks like it was drawn by a worshiper of foreign gods?

In times like this, it’s best to ask.

“Why are you painting such ominous pictures?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

The Mister, wearing a crow mask, genuinely seemed bewildered, and began to explain, tapping the floor with the sole of his foot.

“It’s a painting that shows humanity’s unyielding will, even in the face of unstoppable catastrophe. Don’t you understand?”

“…You really are good at painting.”

This person is also crazy.

Having made my judgment, I stopped talking to him and admired the atelier.

You shouldn’t hang out with crazy people. There’s a reason they say, “Bad company corrupts good morals,” isn’t there?

“Hmph.”

-Thump.

As I offered a compliment, a small leather bag flew through the air and landed in my arms.

“What’s this?”

“Paints. It was pitiful to see you only ever using black and white.”

“But I like that.”

“Don’t you understand the aesthetic that a variety of colors shows?”

Mister’s painting, as he claimed, was a vibrant, rainbow-like work, painted in various colors.

Ha, what do you know?

“Don’t you understand the harmony of restrained black and white?”

“?!”

I’ve told him the truth, so digesting it is up to him.

I quietly left Mister’s atelier, leaving the shocked man behind.

So damn cool.

I walked through the crowded streets of Shavrian, deep in thought.

Now that I had canvases, I wanted to paint, but there was nothing I really wanted to draw.

Having spent the past few days at the mansion, chatting and spending time with Miss Chris every day, I hadn’t really gained any inspiration.

Something… something, something…

I didn’t even feel like exploring outside the city walls today.

Hugging the constantly slipping canvases, I quietly returned to the mansion.

My neat room was already imbued with my scent.

I fixed a canvas onto the easel set up in the center of the room, and reached for her diary resting on the desk…

…but then simply withdrew my hand.

Though I longed for it, I felt like something terrible would happen if I touched it now.

“Ah, Dreamland… I want to go again?”

As I continued to ponder inspiration, Dreamland, where I had met Ms. Erica, naturally came to mind.

I’m not a professional painter or anything, so I don’t need to gain inspiration, but only painting can get rid of this boredom.

Ugh, my hands are itching.

-Rustle, rustle.

“Huh?”

As I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I heard a rustling sound from the wall, and slap – Blackie landed on my face.

“What’s wrong?”

As I stroked Blackie’s head, who was being affectionate, its short leg pressed down on my eyelid.

It was persistently pulling downwards, so it seemed to be telling me to close my eyes?

“Close my eyes?”

-Nod, nod.

Wow, Blackie’s the only one who cares about my work-life balance.

I haven’t done much, but sleep is important; it’s not for nothing that they say “sleep is the best medicine.”

“…Really sleep?”

-Nod, nod.

Pressing, pressing, Blackie’s leg pulled down on my eyelids as if giving a massage.

With it doing all this for me, I guess I should sleep.

Anyway, I’m just a good-for-nothing, a superfluous individual waiting for the orphanage to be completed.

It’s better to sleep than just consume food.

And so, I fell asleep in bed with Blackie.

“Huh?”

A chill wind swept over my entire body.

More refreshing than creepy, like stepping into a cold bath?

My eyes opened on their own, and I sat up, but the scenery was strange.

An open sky, stars raining down like beads, and countless moons.

Downy grass tickling my palms and vast open fields.

This mysterious landscape was Dreamland, the place I had visited before.

-Rustle, rustle.

As I was walking on the grass, looking around, something enormous blocked my path.

I had been walking forward, but a huge monument suddenly appeared.

Perhaps due to the possession effect, even for me, who saw all sorts of writing as Korean, suspicious characters were written on it that I couldn’t read.

-Scratch, scratch, scratch.

For some reason, I pulled out the notebook from my pocket and copied the monument’s writing.

I doubted if I was copying it correctly, but it felt like drawing, so I simply enjoyed it.

As I was copying the monument’s writing for a long time, stir, stir, something moved behind it.

“Who’s there?”

-Pitter-patter.

Round and round and round.

I unexpectedly started playing tag with the suspicious shadow.

After one, two, then three turns, thump – something faked a move and then bumped into me on its own.

Stupid thing, I reached out with both hands and grabbed it.

“This little guy, look how tiny it is, huh?”

“Mister.”

Cheep, cheep?

What I had caught was none other than an ordinary child.

No, not ordinary.

Not a human child with normal proportions, but a cute child with a stylized form.

The child toddled over, extending a tightly clenched fist, and when I didn’t respond, it suddenly began to dance joyfully.

That rhythm and those dance moves, that’s… a unique dance, the only one of its kind in this world?

“Blackie?”

“Mister!”

To meet Blackie, who suspiciously put me to sleep, in a dream!

Where could there be another day as joyful as this!

I put my hand under Blackie’s armpit and spun around, shouting Blackie’s name.

“Blackie!”

“Mister!”

“Blackie!”

“Mister!”

A mysterious encounter that could easily be mistaken for a musical.

What exactly is Blackie’s true identity? I smiled brightly, my curiosity swelling.