MILND 95

Chapter 95

The westward-facing Sun Conservatory opened its gates, and Jace strode in with confident steps.

The person who had recommended Jace was a baron acquainted with Viscount Metokan’s family.

From what he had heard, the baron felt guilty for not helping Mabel back then and so had readily written out an invitation.

Not that I care.

Jace wasn’t curious who the baron’s child was, nor in what state of mind they awaited him.

From the moment he accepted Wilhelmina’s request, Jace had set his sights firmly on the goal.

Truth be told, he could have refused the request.

Although Wilhelmina did have leverage over him with the document theft incident, she had clearly stated she would not use it against him.

Besides, Father also told me to keep close with the Layton dukedom.

And when Jace gave such an excuse, Mirinae had smiled brightly and said:

“You like the great lady, don’t you, Jace? Me too.”

He wanted to shout “No way!” but, faced with Mirinae’s smile, the words refused to leave his mouth.

Well… owing a debt isn’t the worst thing.

Besides, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he had the instinctive feeling that following Wilhelmina’s words wouldn’t lead him astray.

Forcing away the lingering image of Mirinae’s adorable smile, Jace looked around the conservatory.

In the central plaza stood a large fountain, and around it were paintings seemingly created by the members themselves.

“Looks decent enough.”

Feigning indifference, Jace strolled among the works.

The plan was to view the paintings freely, then gather for a tea-time discussion.

For a so-called children’s gathering, the atmosphere rivaled that of high society.

But the quality of the works left much to be desired.

A portrait with jewels stuck in the eyes? The proportions are all wrong. Perspective’s a mess too…

“…I could do better with my feet.”

He muttered sourly, quickening his pace.

In truth, Jace’s artistic sense was sharp.

His hands were deft as well, to the point his professors had praised him in art class.

Even Wilhelmina, who once tried to teach him more about art, had been astonished by his knowledge.

He hadn’t brought a painting today since his participation was last-minute, but he was confident he could outdo most of what he saw here.

And look at that—the exact same flaw the great lady warned me about.

Wilhelmina, upon hearing the theme of this exhibition, had declared there would surely be that problem among the works.

Jace had scoffed, doubting anyone could be so foolish. Yet there were more than he expected.

What a group. All appearance, no substance. Even the academy clubs are better than this.

Clicking his tongue, Jace spotted the club president, Cornel, admiring works with a group of followers.

Obvious phony.

Cornel, chin propped in hand, spouted strange critiques:

This piece lacked color. That one lacked “feeling.” His remarks were so hollow they almost drew laughter.

Yet his followers gazed at him with admiration, lifting him higher with every word.

“Hm. This use of sand is unique. It adds a sense of depth.”

“Oh my, thank you for the praise, Lord Cornel.”

“On the other hand… this one focused too much on the background. The smile doesn’t resonate. A pity.”

“You’re absolutely right! The colors are dull, and it isn’t fun at all. As expected of Lord Cornel!”

Having grown used to the strict discipline of training grounds, Jace felt shivers at the slavish responses.

No doubt the ones ridiculed are the outcasts or the lowborn kids.

Suppressing a gag, Jace hung back, waiting for his chance to step in.

The great lady said it: someone’s bound to become the target. And when that happens…

The moment soon arrived.

“Hmm? These two paintings look alike. Who made them?”

“Lord Zephyro and Lady Bilia.”

“Wow, they really do! Both painted that watermill we saw on the outing.”

The two works had been displayed side by side, practically begging for comparison.

Zephyro’s was vivid and colorful, while Bilia’s had strong outlines but appeared flat and plain in color.

“Lord Zephyro is as brilliant as ever. Such fine work, once again! But Lady Bilia’s…”

A girl giggled behind her fan—so smoothly it seemed rehearsed.

“Oh, forgive me. That was rude…”

“It’s fine, Lady Eupina. Lady Bilia’s work simply brings… amusement, doesn’t it? Right, Lord Cornel?”

“Well, yes. A bit lacking. Too bound by convention. If only she could break out of her shell. Whereas Zephyro’s piece…”

They praised Zephyro while tearing down Bilia.

Yet to Jace, the truth was the opposite.

For Zephyro’s piece was exactly the kind Wilhelmina had warned of: a case of plagiarism.

“Come, let’s move to the next piece.”

Cornel began to lead the group away. Jace seized the moment, raising his voice for all to hear.

“This? You call this a painting? I could do better with my feet!”

Silence fell over the conservatory.

With all eyes on him, Jace continued, as though rehearsed:

“And it’s a fake. Or should I say plagiarism? The composition and colors are ripped straight from Painter Chakila.”

“What are you talking about…”

Cornel and his cronies stammered in confusion.

Jace scanned the crowd, searching for Bilia.

There she is.

A freckled girl was wiping away tears. When their eyes met, Jace gave her a faint smile before turning to her painting.

“At least this one’s worth looking at. Clean finish, solid fundamentals. Unlike that plagiarized piece.”

“Y-you, who are you? How dare you—this is…”

The girl called Eupina stepped forward angrily, but Jace straightened, wearing a smug expression.

“Jace Milo. New member here. Pleased to meet you.”

“Uh… I, um…”

Eupina flushed for some reason, but Jace ignored her, smirking at the blinking Cornel.

“I’d heard the West Sun was all refinement, but I’m not impressed. You really count plagiarized works as art?”

Wilhelmina had only wanted a small disturbance.

But for a boy who’d just regained his old swagger as a street boss, there was no hitting the brakes.

Mabel wandered the conservatory with a bewildered expression.

Children clustered in their groups, whispering.

The place, usually so polished and graceful, felt utterly different today.

That person… fought with Lord Cornel, right?

She recalled the argument that had erupted upon her arrival.

Though too far to hear clearly, it was obvious the young man had insulted Cornel.

Cornel’s friends tried to counter, but the stranger only laughed scornfully.

Once the uproar ended, the young man seemed to lose interest and seated himself at the tea-time tables, resting his chin on his hand and glaring at the plaza.

He looks scary.

Avoiding Cornel’s gaze was usually enough, but now Mabel found herself avoiding the stranger’s as well.

In truth, the young man was handsome: striking green hair, sharp eyes, tall and commanding. He could easily be called a fine youth.

But his gaze, filled with anger and irritation, snuffed out his charms.

Thanks to the tense atmosphere, Mabel hesitated to approach Eupina right away.

Maybe I should wait a bit.

Eupina was busy—whether consoling Cornel or bad-mouthing the green-haired youth, Mabel couldn’t tell.

Since there’d be tea time after the viewing, Mabel decided she could speak with her then. For now, she waddled off to the corner, clutching her large canvas.

But where should I sit?

The only open table was the one with the green-haired youth.

As she debated, she saw a freckled girl approach him.

“Um…”

The girl sat timidly beside him and spoke.

“Thank you, Lord Jace. For taking my side…”

“Hmph. I only said what I saw.”

His voice was still sharp, but the girl shook her head firmly.

“No, it really meant a lot. Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Bilia Timir.”

As Jace and Bilia exchanged names, more children gathered around him.

“You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Fict, from near Milo territory…”

“You recognized Painter Chakila’s work! That’s amazing! I’m a huge fan too…”