Chapter 12
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A villainess locked away in a desolate tower—I had possessed her body.
Chapter 12
"So you're saying I should draw it like this?"
Watching a group of elderly artists huddled together, heads bent in concentration, was honestly a bit amusing.
"No, that's not quite..."
Where a clearly professional hand had passed, a single apple lay rendered with jewel-like beauty.
The problem was that these men had been drawing this one apple for the entire half-day.
Fearing I'd be trapped here forever if this dragged on any longer, I leaned toward Brown, the former imperial painter who sat at the head of the group, and whispered softly.
"Perhaps... you could ease up just a little bit?"
"Ah, yes. Come to think of it, I've heard that lighter touches are in fashion these days rather than heavy brushstrokes like before. Wouldn't you agree, Robid?"
Robid, suddenly called upon, scratched at his half-exposed scalp.
"Hmm, I'm not so sure. This aggressive style of painting—isn't it simply copying the techniques of foreign peoples rather than our own unique Cletan methods?"
"It's not copying; it's evolution."
These men constantly spouted incomprehensible jargon and lost themselves in their own world.
Before the atmosphere grew any more heated, I spoke again.
"What I meant was that you only need to draw a rough sketch of the object itself. There's no need to put in this much effort. The important thing is conveying the story."
"Ah, in other words, embed a narrative within the artwork?"
Brown's face brightened considerably.
This time, he turned to Cedric, who had been quietly concentrating on the drawing from across the room.
"Isn't the world of art truly profound? It develops day by day, and new meanings are constantly woven into it."
After a long silence, Cedric answered in a grave voice.
"...New art, you say. Truly, the Blaire Grand Duke House is remarkable."
"Ha, ha, ha..."
'No!'
I swallowed a silent scream at Cedric's betrayal—he of all people, who had seemed the most composed.
And once again, resentment toward Blaire Grand Duke surged up within me.
Comic books were simply meant to pass idle time. They weren't some masterwork for the ages.
Yet these elderly grandfather painters seemed to regard this task as the greatest undertaking of their lives, burning with tremendous enthusiasm.
According to Liam's explanation, the Grand Duke had offered them an astronomical salary to recruit them.
"Hundreds of millions of trios!?"
"With the Grand Duke's wealth, nothing is impossible."
As a princess of a nation who had lived as poor as a street beggar, I couldn't help but be astounded by the Grand Duke's staggering scale.
"In any case, young lady, we now understand what you've described. And we know what we must convey."
"Pardon?"
Brown, who had been introduced to me only as a young noblewoman from a cadet branch to protect my identity, bowed respectfully.
His serious demeanor made me increasingly anxious.
"...What do you mean by 'convey'?"
I asked carefully, but the painters, already lost in their own world, paid my question no mind.
"We'll simply need a bit more time."
"Indeed. There's much we must coordinate among ourselves."
They whispered among themselves once more before slipping away before I could even respond.
I stumbled out of the empty workshop and had to make a considerable effort to collect my scattered thoughts.
At the same time, a wave of indignation crashed over me.
'I only wanted to rest peacefully in my chamber!'
An ominous premonition clung to me—that creating this comic book, something never meant for my fate, would only make my life more arduous.
* * *
There's a saying, isn't there? That sad premonitions are never wrong.
I alternated my gaze between the large, weighty book in my hands and the three elderly men whose eyes shone with hopeful anticipation.
Robid, standing foremost, soon spread his arms with pride.
"A comic book containing the magnificent achievements of the First Blaire Grand Duke."
"Ah, ah...."
In short... a biography of a great man?
With trembling hands, I slowly opened the cover of the book, which boasted a size considerably larger than average.
And as expected.
"Ha, ha ha...."
A hollow laugh escaped my lips as I took in the contents.
So, to summarize this remarkable comic book simply, it begins with the birth of the First Blaire Grand Duke.
The First Blaire Grand Duke was born from an egg, no less. And from the age of five, he breathed fire from his mouth while subjugating monsters.
That wasn't all. From age ten onward, he spread his arms and sprouted wings from his armpits, taking flight, and with a single vigorous flap of those wings, he could generate a gale to repel his enemies.
Beyond that, he crafted bombs from pinecones and crossed Miro Lake riding upon a single leaf—an epic of truly staggering proportions....
'At this rate, the First Grand Duke didn't defeat monsters—he was the monster himself, wasn't he?'
But the problem didn't end there.
Snap.
I quickly closed this genre-defying comic book. I simply couldn't bear to look further.
'This is so boring....'
I couldn't tell the grandfathers staring at me with gleaming eyes outright, but this comic was genuinely, utterly tedious.
Aside from the overwhelming absurdity and the contradictory insane quality, there was nothing to feel from this comic.
Nor was there any profound lesson. If I forced myself to extract one, it would be something like: cross the Blaire Grand Duke and you die.
Given that the Grand Duke himself had ordered this comic's creation, I suspected it was his grand design.
'Unless you want to be killed by a pinecone grenade, become an obedient slave?'
If my suspicion was correct.
If his grand design was indeed true...
'I must never be disrespectful.'
Ha ha ha.
I let out a bitter laugh.
"What do you think?"
At that moment, Brown, who had led the creation of this biographical comic, asked carefully.
"We heard that the Young Lady will provide the final evaluation of this work to the Blaire Grand Duke."
"Well, that is...."
I turned my head and subtly avoided their burdensome gaze.
Of course, I wanted to say something encouraging. I wanted to tell them they'd worked hard enough, that this was sufficient.
But... but!
'I can't lie about this, no matter what.'
Compared to the masterpiece comics I'd seen in the modern world, this was absolutely excessive.
There was no heart-wrenching romance, no revenge tale chilling enough to unsettle viewers—only the unending saga of the monstrous Blaire Grand Duke, sprouting wings and tempests from his armpits.
After hesitating for a moment, I lifted my head again.
"I was thinking... perhaps we could approach the narrative's purpose differently?"
"The purpose? But this is meant to honor the greatness of Blaire Grand Duke!"
Robid's plump face flushed crimson, as though he'd taken my words as an insult to his work.
I extended my hand in a calming gesture and continued my explanation steadily.
"What I mean is..."
If I failed to convince them this time, I would be condemned to appreciate an absurdly expensive piece of paper trash.
I had to prevent that at all costs.
"The most important thing is entertainment. Brown, tell me—do you find the biography of the first Blaire Grand Duke engaging?"
"...I drew it with the intention of praising a great man's achievements."
In other words, you didn't consider entertainment at all, did you?
Perhaps noticing my expression, he added defensively.
"Art pursued merely for frivolous interest is regarded as inferior among scholars, is it not?"
"It would be a waste of the labor of these artists gathered here to expend it on mere light entertainment."
Even Cedric added his own comment.
I shook my head. Sooner or later, art would inevitably escape the exclusive domain of the nobility.
If that were the case, art needed to be lighter and inherently more entertaining. That was how it had been in the world I came from.
"Didn't people first begin drawing, and later develop the profession of artist, ultimately to bring joy and happiness to others?"
"...."
"That's what I meant. Nothing has changed from that purpose."
Thud.
Brown's arm, which had been tense, went limp.
Robid and Cedric also regarded me with expressions difficult to interpret.
Under their gaze in the silence, I felt heat rising to my face.
'Did I just spout complete nonsense?'
But there was no helping it.
Even if you paid people to watch this, they'd refuse. Sob.
"...My lady."
How long had I been standing there like that?
Brown, his expression somewhat softened, stepped closer to me.
"We've been in this field for so long that we seem to have lost sight of our original purpose."
"...Pardon?"
"You're right, my lady. We took up the brush because it was genuinely enjoyable. But somewhere along the way, we began adorning everything with grandiose language, expounding on the magnificence of art, and perhaps we wanted to make ourselves—those who do this work—seem like great people through it all."
In the wrinkled corners of his eyes, tears seemed to glisten, though he seemed reluctant to acknowledge them.
"No, that's not it. You're all truly remarkable people."
"Hehe, there's no need for such modesty. To truly become remarkable, we must entertain those who observe us, just as you say. So..."
Brown asked in a grave voice.
"What must we do?"
What must we do?
I sank into deep contemplation.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org