The Former Child Prodigy: “The Title Of That Painting Is—”

That young man’s painting certainly had a style very similar to the grand prize-winning work.

The instant he saw it, Soltage felt a bolt of electricity run through his entire body.

At last, I’ve found him!

However, that feeling was not one hundred percent pure. There was an unpleasant sense of something subtly catching in his heart.

Soltage narrowed his eyes and searched for the source of that discomfort.

And at last, he realized it.

He could not put the details fully into words, but—something was mixed in. Like crude water mixed into fine wine. Because of that, the perfect world had been ruined.

Soltage came to this conclusion.

This man was probably imitating the grand prize-winning work. It was done reasonably well, but there was no value in following after someone else.

(…So this one isn’t it either.)

With that thought, a sigh slipped from him— and the young man seated before him turned around.

“…What is it?”

He looked unmotivated—a man who seemed not to possess even a shred of love for art. Seeing that, Soltage became certain that his judgment was correct.

“No. Nothing in particular.”

After answering briefly, Soltage lost interest in the man and moved on to the next participant.

“Thank you for participating in the painting trial corner. Time is up now, so please finish up.”

The participants hurriedly began getting ready to leave.

At that moment, Arisa said to me,

“Sorry, big brother! For making them swap the canvas for me!”

“It really doesn’t matter.”

I gave a small laugh.

A little while after we started, Arisa had made a huge mistake in her painting. At that point, I had still not painted anything. I was not interested in painting myself, so I had just been watching Arisa work.

Arisa looked so dejected that I felt bad for her, so I suggested swapping the canvas for her.

As a result, I painted my picture by adding onto “the painting Arisa had messed up.”

…Well, since I was not interested in painting, I did not feel particularly bad about it. If anything, it felt more like I had been given a strange assignment—

Finish this failed painting in a way that somehow makes it work!

I had even enjoyed it.

“Well then, shall we head home?”

“Yep!”

And so, Arisa and I left the museum.

Then a month passed—

“Hey, hey, big brother!”

While I was lazing around at home, Arisa called out to me.

“That grand prize painting got sold at auction!”

“Oh?”

That painting of “the brutally murdered corpse of an octopus pasted onto a grotesquely painted willow tree,” the one that looked so much like the painting I drew.

“How much?”

“How much do you think?”

Arisa asked with a grin. What a pain.

“…Let’s see… three million gold, maybe?”

“Bzzt, wrong.”

Shaking her raised index finger from side to side, Arisa told me the price.

“You’re short by two digits.”

“Huh?”

“Three hundred million.”

“Huh?”

“It was three hundred million!”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!?”

I was seriously shocked. For just a painting, no less. If it were me, and I had three hundred million, I would not buy a painting—I would just loaf around unemployed.

“Is that thing really worth that much?”

“Isn’t it probably the prestige of winning the grand prize? And besides, Soltage-san, who’s super famous even in the Imperial Capital, went and called it ‘a miracle of art,’ you know.”

A miracle of art, huh… that seems like a bit much, doesn’t it? …Well, since it was merchandise for Black Dragon’s Fang, maybe they had to say that much.

“Who bought it?”

“Umm, let’s see… His Majesty Emperor Zoros.”

“Bffft.”

The emperor? That was the top ruler of this country. To think that painting had reached a place like that…

So that painting was going to be displayed in the emperor’s chambers. Personally, I did not think it was a bad painting, but if I were to set aside my own subjective view and say it plainly, would it not be cursed at that point?

Arisa gave me a sly grin.

“Big brother, why don’t you quit being an adventurer and become a painter instead? You can draw paintings that look like it, so maybe you’ve got a shot?”

Hmm… I wonder.

Had the age finally come to appreciate my style? Had the times at last caught up to me? If so, nothing could make me happier.

But those bitter memories from my student days—of pretending to be someone I wasn’t—were still strong, so I was not really in the mood…

As I was lost in thought, Arisa continued.

“Rather than just saying it looks similar, isn’t that painting really yours after all, big brother?”

“Hm? Weren’t we saying it wasn’t, because I never entered it?”

“That’s true, but… still, I just don’t think it’s possible for that creepy painting to overlap by pure coincidence. No matter how you think about it, that thing is one of a kind.”

“Did you just call it creepy?”

“They said that the judging was happening in the same venue that day, right? So isn’t it possible that somehow your painting got mixed into the judging venue by accident?”

…Somehow, huh…

Well, if I allow for the existence of coincidence, I guess it is not impossible.

But that would be a little too convenient.

“I don’t know… but if that were true, it would become a huge problem.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

To Arisa, who looked blankly at me, I said this.

“You see, the title of that painting is ‘Blank.’”

The emperor bought it at auction for three hundred million?

That would make this a joke that was not even remotely funny—but well, it would probably end with it not actually being my painting after all, so I guess it was fine.