Chapter 240
"Do you also think it's because of the mirror?"
What is this about now?
Lilith stood there blankly, as if unsure if she heard correctly.
I grabbed her wrist, pulled her back inside, and closed the door. Then I asked the old man again, "Could you explain in detail?"
"I don't believe in that curse. It's all lies made up by the bigwigs."
"...?"
"I've lived with a mirror in my home's entrance for over a decade. I learned this from my grandmother. And now it's suddenly a problem? I don't believe that one bit."
He seemed like a stubborn and suspicious old man commonly seen in marketplaces.
"Why is that?"
"Why, you ask? It's an old custom of Claridium!"
"What do you mean by that?"
I was curious because it was different from what Rosalyn said.
"This city was built by exiles, refugees, and those who fled from witch hunts. Abandoned by their countries, they somehow tried to survive in a cursed land full of magic creatures, using whatever tools they had at hand, and that's how magic engineering developed. These customs are traces of the common people's struggle for survival, those who had no talent for magic and couldn't handle a sword."
"...Do you know about the origin of this custom?"
"No one knows anymore. But I still believe in tradition. It's not a curse."
I could feel his stubbornness. It sounded like denial of reality, but since Rosalyn only moved to Claridium a few years ago, this old man's words were more convincing to me.
Lilith nodded, her expression suggesting that the old man's words made sense.
If it wasn’t a curse ritual, it must mean something else. Was it trying to convey a message? A warning? Or a prey marker?
If not that, I wondered if the mirror had a function of driving away specific magic creatures but thinking about it, this seemed a bit far-fetched. Vampires wouldn't be afraid of mirrors, and what kind of magic creature would honestly enter through a house's front door?
Hearing the word "custom" made it seem more likely that moving the mirror was the work of a vampire. Vampires who had lived for hundreds of years would be much more conservative in their way of life than humans. If they had been rooted in Claridium longer, they'd have a deeper understanding of traditions.
"I understand. Oh, and do you know where this prophet Proxima is?"
The old man squinted his eyes as if something was bothering him and slightly stumbled over his words.
"P-Proxima should be at the Akates Temple. Though news about her has been scarce for a long time, as if she's gone into hiding."
If it was a temple... Could he be talking about the place where the sky sailship crashed?
"Is there something bothering you?"
"Long ago, I swore not to rely on prophecies, that's why."
He had a face that suggested there was a story he couldn't tell.
"...I see."
***
We moved to find Master Rotulek's studio. Lilith just followed me silently with a serious expression, as if lost in thought.
It felt like things were getting more and more complicated. There were no clues about the man who didn’t age, and it seemed like we were just accumulating more homework. Maybe it would be better to seek help from the prophet rather than just asking around among the city residents.
Lilith suddenly asked me, "Damian, what do you think?"
"About what?"
"The saying that you can't trust anyone in this city, what do you think?"
"I'm not sure."
"I think... there's something strange about this city too."
"...It's been very strange from the beginning."
Lilith suddenly grabbed my wrist and stopped in the middle of the main street.
"It's here, Damian."
"Rotulek's studio is still quite far away."
"No, this is the place."
Lilith nodded towards a shop next to us.
Next to us was a closed restaurant that looked like it had been abandoned for years. The windows were broken, and piles of waste materials were covered in dust and cobwebs.
"...What are you talking about?"
"The place that's good at beef stew. The place the coachman we met in the slums last night recommended."
"...What?"
It was like being doused with ice water; I was suddenly wide awake.
I looked up. It was true. The tilted sign read “Jenny & Finny”. Next door was Roland's Fabric Shop, just as the coachman had said.
"The coachman definitely said he had dinner there yesterday too."
"..."
I remember clearly too. But it was nonsense to say he had a meal here. There wasn’t even a place to sit inside, let alone have a meal.
I grabbed Lilith's wrist and immediately entered Roland's Fabric Shop next door.
The narrow interior was densely packed with fabrics. And a middle-aged woman who was weaving alone greeted us with a bright smile.
"Do you need a blanket for a couple?"
"No. May I ask you one thing?"
"Yes, ask anything."
"When did the shop next door close down?"
"About a year ago, why?"
"It was a shop I liked, and when I came back after a long time, I found it closed, so I'm asking."
"Oh my, that's right. How could someone just leave like that without a word? I wondered if something had happened."
"Were you acquainted with the owner next door?"
"Oh, we've been doing business side by side for ten years, how could I not know? It's disappointing that they left without even saying goodbye."
"I see. Thank you for your words."
Lilith looked up at me silently. I grabbed her wrist and went back outside the shop.
She stood there blankly with unfocused eyes and then saoed, "The old man at the bookstore said it, didn't he? That... you can't trust anyone in the city. I think I understand what that means now."
"..."
I strongly agreed.
Why did the coachman say such a thing? He must have known the shop had closed down since he goes around the city like that.
"Damian, you saw the same thing I did, right?"
"Yes."
"It feels like we've been bewitched by a ghost."
Something had been off since the moment we first arrived in this city. Priscilla constantly shook her blade to send signals, and I was always on edge without knowing the cause. The falling sky sailship, the corpse with a smashed face, the mirror curse, the intruder peeking at houses, all of these happened in just two days.
It felt like we were missing an important puzzle piece, and all the other puzzle pieces were scattered without connection.
What on earth are we missing?
***
"Master Rotulek is away."
We moved three blocks to find Rotulek's studio, but we couldn't meet him directly. Instead, an assistant greeted us.
Rotulek was using an old and shabby brick mansion as his studio, which didn't match his reputation as a great painter.
We followed the assistant. Unfinished canvases lined the corridor, covered in dust. Although the surface was cracked and discolored from being left in the sunlight for too long, the intense style of the great painter Rotulek I knew hadn't faded.
I had once talked about Rotulek with a pink-haired girl named Misha in Rigved. She said her family had sponsored him for a long time, but at some point, he changed sides and completely changed his painting style. I remember that conversation clearly because I was familiar with the painter. I wondered how he changed after abandoning such a high-quality style.
"Where did he go?"
"The master is staying at the city council main building due to a special commission request."
The city council main building is not a place ordinary students like us could visit.
"It's a shame, he's like my idol."
"Don't resent him too much. Even I, his assistant, only see him once every couple of months."
"...He must be very busy."
"He's still a much sought-after person."
Fellow artists had harshly criticized his changed style, but seeing that there was still overflowing demand, it must not be that bad.
"This way. You said Westwood, right? Come in. It should be in here."
The assistant stopped at the end of the corridor and opened a door. Inside, completed portraits were lined up, leaning against the wall.
I appreciated each displayed painting one by one, as if I were at an exhibition, with my hands behind my back.
"Count Schwalbe..."
It was a painting of a man who looked to be in his 30s, with his hair slightly thinning. It seemed to be an old painting, with Rotulek's unique energy remaining in a somewhat clumsy form.
"Ah, that's a work from 30 years ago. The Count was once active enough to serve as a city councilor. His recent work is next to it."
The one next to it was so different in style that it could be said to have been painted by a different person.
"The style has changed a lot."
"There was a so-called great change, but it's a bit different from what people say. I think technically, he's still, no, even more advanced."
The assistant's words weren't wrong.
Rotulek's unique hazy forms that seemed like encounters in a dream and his dreamlike and unique colors had completely disappeared. Now, his style had changed to extremely realistic. It was as if he brought real people into the painting and froze time.
My thoughts completely aligned with the general evaluation. Technically excellent, but the soul was gone. This was closer to historical records that historians would like.
"The amazing thing is that the master can perfectly store and reproduce in his mind what he's seen just once. Thanks to that, he saves the trouble of having to maintain the same pose for half a day, so high-ranking people are willing to pay extra to commission paintings from Master Rotulek."
"Where is the portrait of the Westwood couple?"
"Look here."
The assistant pointed to a painting.
It showed a portrait of the old Westwood man we saw earlier and his wife. The wife's face showed clear traces of time, but traces of beauty remained here and there.
"Could I borrow a pencil?"
"Ah, here you go."
I took out a parchment to record the face and quickly sketched it. The assistant, who was quietly watching the lines quickly connecting, said, "You're technically excellent too, sir."
"Copying is easy."
Unfortunately, the Rotulek I liked was gone. Rotulek's paintings were valuable because they were in a style I couldn't imitate, but now they had been reduced to scraps of paper for me.
As I finished the sketch lightly and turned around, Lilith suddenly called me.
"Damian, this painting, isn't it similar to what you drew?"
Lilith pointed to a painting. It showed the figure of a familiar woman.
The thin and curved lines of the body. Dark red hair. A small, white face shape and perfect features that captivate people at first sight. Expensive jewelry with precious stones that I wouldn't dare to consider.
Although it was an unfinished work, I could clearly recognize who this person was.
"..."
"It's someone you know, right? I've seen this person in the Art Club room before."
"Yes. Because she's my teacher."
Silveryn's portrait was in Rotulek's studio. The extremely realistic colors caught my eye.
The assistant asked, "Do you know this person?"
"Yes, who commissioned this painting?"
"It probably wasn't the person herself. Thanks to his genius memory, the master sometimes creates portraits of people the client wants. Um... Just a moment. I'll check."
He slightly lifted the back of the painting and said, "This... was commissioned by the mayor."