I Reincarnated as the Daughter of a Runaway Sub Heroine - Chapter 70
Following the map, we arrived at a slum. Seeing the trash and filth overflowing the streets, Bell slightly frowned.
“Lady Ar, do you really have to go in person? Wouldn’t it be better to just call him to the duke’s residence?”
“If it’s too hard, you can wait here with Derek.”
“Oh, no! Let’s go together!”
After searching for a while, we finally managed to locate the studio.
The studio was underground. Seeing the dark staircase leading down, Derek swallowed hard.
“To me, this looks like the entrance to hell…”
“You two wait here.”
Derek exclaimed in surprise at my words.
“What do you mean by that? We have to go together!”
“I want to confirm something with the painter, and if there are too many people, he might not talk. I’ll go alone, so you two keep watch at the entrance.”
“But—”
“Do I need to say it twice?”
Both of them immediately shut their mouths.
As I took a few steps away from them, I suddenly turned around. They had been sneaking up behind me and jumped in surprise, pretending to look elsewhere.
“If you take even one step closer, know that both of you will die by my hand today.”
After subduing the two, I carefully lifted my skirt and descended the stairs.
As I opened the old wooden door, it creaked loudly, the rusty hinges protesting. The smell of paint and long-settled dust hit me all at once.
Inside, numerous paintings and art supplies were scattered chaotically. In the midst of that cluttered space, an older middle-aged man was painting with his back to the door.
Without turning around, the man asked, “Who is it?”
When I didn’t respond, the man turned his body at an angle. His hair was a tangled mess as if it hadn’t been combed for days, and his face was gaunt. However, his eyes were unusually large and shone brightly.
The man rolled his eyes as he briefly examined my appearance before turning his back again.
“I don’t know how a noble lady like you ended up here, but this is not a place for aristocratic young ladies. You should go to the salon exhibition instead.”
I chuckled lightly at his words.
“Everyone keeps telling me the same thing. They say there are no paintings here that I would want, so I should go to the salon exhibition. Do they all know what I’m looking for to say such things?”
The man seemed disinclined to respond, chewing on my words instead.
I strolled around the place slowly, admiring the paintings scattered haphazardly.
“I’ve seen your paintings at the information guild. There was one of a shepherd, and it left quite an impression.”
The man remained silent, and I continued to chatter away.
“What’s your relationship with Jakar? He seems to have purchased quite a few of your paintings. Is he your patron?”
As I spoke, I focused intently on one of the paintings in the room.
It depicted a noble lady. She smiled elegantly, and a single flower was placed in a vase on the table.
The man glanced at me and replied curtly, “That is a painting that received harsh criticism and doesn’t even meet the basics of painting. There’s no need to examine it closely.”
“It’s no surprise it received criticism. The perspective is entirely off.”
Implementing perspective and viewpoint correctly is fundamental in painting. However, this painting had an incorrect perspective.
Behind the woman was a window, and the background was visible through the glass, but the reflection in the window and the actual scene did not align.
Moreover, his coloring was uneven, and the brush strokes were evident. The criticism that it didn’t even meet the basics stemmed from this.
As the man scoffed softly, as if he expected this, I said, “But from what I see, it seems you intentionally incorporated two perspectives: one from the frontal view and another from the background reflected in the window. The misalignment in perspective is due to that.”
The hand of the man painting suddenly stopped. I continued to admire the painting.
“You intentionally changed the perspective to reveal the true reality hidden behind the woman’s smile, didn’t you? The woman smiles like a flower, but she seems somewhat melancholic and empty. I think the reason for that is the reflection in the window. Unlike her smiling front, her back view looks very tired and worn out. Also, the expression of the man watching her from the doorway doesn’t seem like that of a suitor but rather resembles that of a slave trader. His gaze is like that of a merchant looking for an item that can increase its value. To him, the woman is not much different from a flower in a vase.”
The man slowly turned around. Unlike moments ago when he was wary of me, his face was now filled with surprise.
“Is this enough for us to have a conversation?”
He hesitated and stood up from his chair. I smiled at him.
“My name is Arcadia Iskas. I came to ask you a few questions.”
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
The man placed a rough cup on the old table. Inside the cup were warm water and a few pieces of herbs.
“If you don’t mind, please have this. It’s tea I make myself, so I don’t know if it will suit a noblewoman’s taste…”
I took a sip of the tea. The refreshing aroma of the herbs lingered in my mouth.
“I also like peppermint tea; I drink it sometimes. It clears the mind.”
Rene Banar looked at me with surprise. Most nobles wouldn’t even touch such herbal tea, let alone know its name.
“But drinking it at night can interfere with a good night’s sleep, so it’s not good to drink it too late. I recommend lavender or chamomile tea for the evening.”
“You seem knowledgeable about herbs.”
“I have a decent understanding of herbs and poisons. My father taught me since I was young.”
“It seems your knowledge isn’t limited to herbs. Did the Grand Duke also teach you about painting?”
“No. My father only likes the paintings I create. In the Grand Duke’s residence, there are paintings I made since I was six displayed from the entrance of the mansion. It’s embarrassing, and even when I ask him to take them down, he absolutely refuses, which gives me a headache.”
He burst into laughter. It was the first time I had heard laughter since coming here.
“The guild master is not my patron.”
And then Rene began to speak.
“I don’t know why he bought all my paintings at once. I only heard that my paintings were sold one day. Well, thanks to that, I’ve been able to keep this studio running. In fact, I was in a position where I had several months of overdue rent and had to vacate the studio immediately.”
“Are you saying he had no ulterior motive in buying your paintings?”
“I’m not sure what he’s thinking. But if you ask me whether there’s any intention behind my paintings, I can say no.”
Rene gave a bitter smile.
“People say I intentionally paint dark and antisocial works, but that’s not true. I just wanted to capture reality in my paintings—the truths that art is currently avoiding.”
“I understand. After coming here and seeing the paintings you created, I realized that.”
I could tell from the numerous paintings he had created that he had no interest in politics. His works were filled with a deep reflection on life.
“But people won’t see it that way. Your paintings have a lot of potential to be used for dangerous purposes.”
There’s no better medium than paintings for inciting people. A single image can easily convey ideology to those who cannot read.
After looking at me for a moment, Rene cautiously spoke.
“Actually, there have been people who asked me to paint specific pieces.”
“Specific pieces? What kind?”
“They asked me to depict the oppressed people suffering under the king and the nobles in a blatant manner. They said they would pay any price. Of course, I refused. I don’t want my paintings to be used in that way.”
I instinctively sensed that those people were Republicans. Otherwise, there would be no reason to request such specific paintings.
“When did this happen?”
“It was relatively recent. About a week ago, I think.”
“Did they have anything particularly unusual about them?”
“Well, aside from the fact that two young men came, there wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy…”
Rene suddenly exclaimed, “Ah!”
“Now that I think about it, those men left something with me.”
Rene rummaged through a drawer for a while and then handed me something. It was a small square piece of paper. The front had a drawing of a mask, and the back had an address written on it.
“They told me that if I changed my mind, I should come to the place written there on the full moon, which is in just five days.”
“A full moon? What kind of place is this?”
“I believe it’s a venue for a masked ball.”
