Villainess Level 99: I May Be the Hidden Boss but I'm Not the Demon Lord Act 6 Part 1 by Satori Tanabata

Author:Satori Tanabata
Language: eng
Format: epub

Led by the cat, we had come all the way to the opposite edge of the settlement. The whole area was filled with unusual things, but there was one thing here that stood out more than everything else.

There was a woman who was painting something. She was frantically dragging her brush along a canvas. That was probably the “cat-vas” that the calico was going to use as a scratching board.

The most notable thing was how her painting looked. It was...incredibly artistic—artistic in the way that Picasso’s works were, where I couldn’t really tell what she was painting.

I couldn’t help but stand still and watch. I didn’t really understand abstract art, but I somehow instinctually felt real art wasn’t like that. It could look like a person, or a starry sky, or an assortment of skewered and grilled meats—it was a strange piece of art.

I observed her painting that kept drawing me in, and the painter spoke without putting her brush down. “There’s nothing fun about looking at such horrible art.”

“No, you’re wrong. It’s so artistic.”

“I’ve heard that countless times!” she screamed as she thrashed her long hair around. “I want to paint something realistic—something true to life!”

Realistic? Like, photorealism? Photos were the complete opposite of the abstract art she was painting. Though it was true that realistic portraits were popular because photographs didn’t exist in this world.

No matter how I look at it, it’s an incomprehensible—no, artistic, not incomprehensible, painting. Though, if she’s trying to paint realistically and this is the result, she might not actually have any talent... As I struggled to come up with a respond, the woman turned back to look at me.

“You all go on about how my pieces are artistic, but that’s just because you can’t understand them, isn’t it?! What’s truly incredible is art that looks like a copy of reality!”

“No, your art is true to life—it depicts reality as it is,” I said.

I wasn’t lying just to console her—I said it because her painting was really like a photograph. The painter’s face had crazy proportions. Her features were laid out as if they were all flat—it was a Picasso-like face. Not that she looked like Picasso, but it was a face similar to those that he painted.

The Kingdom of Twilight is filled with unusual people, but I never expected to meet someone with a Picasso face.

The truly Picasso-like woman said in a nervous voice, “Really? Does this painting actually look like reality?”

“It’s true. I can’t tell the difference.”

Though photorealistic art existed, if you observed them closely, you could tell that they were paintings or drawings. However, I couldn’t tell the portrait in front of me apart from reality. More accurately, I couldn’t tell the difference between the art that looked like scribbles, and a reality that was indiscernible as reality.

The woman, who looked like she’d stepped out of a picture frame herself, was probably looking at me as she spoke. “You really mean it? This art is realistic?”

“A reality similar to art... Sorry, I misspoke.

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