The Painting Immortal's Self-Portrait
“……”
Yang Yeon-hwi blinked her eyes wide a few times. The reflection in the mirror did the same. A faint sense of déjà vu. A slight chill crept up her spine. But it had to be an illusion. This was the first time she'd entered this room or looked into this mirror. She'd probably just stared into it absentmindedly for too long, that's all. What a strange mirror. It had this odd pull, like it might suck her right in. Nothing special about its appearance, though. Aside from being large enough to dominate one side of the room and having a surface so pristine it reflected everything perfectly.
“Hoo.”
Yang Yeon-hwi let out a short breath and tore her gaze from the mirror. She didn't have time to dawdle. If she started working now, she could finish before it got too late. She first spread a canvas flat on the floor. On top of that, she placed the drawing paper. She secured it firmly with a blue jade paperweight so it wouldn't shift. To the right, she set the inkstone and brush holder. The holder had brushes of various thicknesses hung according to their uses. To the left, small bowls filled with pigments of every color. She neatly arranged the glue for mixing with the pigments and the water dropper. These diverse powdered pigments were the core tools that earned her the title of Painting Immortal.
Yang Yeon-hwi, praised as unmatched in creating beautiful, vibrant paintings. Color was the absolute essence she could never omit. She was probably the only painter in the world who used such a vast array of hues. That's why people said, "There is no color in heaven and earth that the Painting Immortal cannot capture."
And the wondrous, brilliant piece she would paint today with those skills was her own self-portrait.
“Hm……”
Yang Yeon-hwi gazed at the blank paper, her face lost in thought. She'd painted countless portraits of others. You couldn't even call yourself a proper painter without knowing how to depict people accurately. But she'd never painted herself. It just hadn't appealed to her. Now she had to do that very thing. Because Go-eui had requested her self-portrait.
—It's a gift in return to the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord, to whom I owe my life. He longs to gaze upon a self-portrait by the world-renowned Painting Immortal, so I'm specially requesting yours. I ask you.
That's what Go-eui had told her. She understood the situation. She didn't know why the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord wanted her self-portrait, but since she'd received such a great favor this time, she could think of it as proper repayment.
With that in mind, her reluctance toward the self-portrait eased a bit. Her personal feelings didn't matter anyway—not when it was for her husband's medicine.
“Hm.”
Yang Yeon-hwi glanced at the mirror again. She needed to settle on a pose first. What would work best? As she pondered, a thought flashed by. Something as natural as possible. Her usual poised seated position would do. A gentle, natural smile on her face. Yes, perfect. She liked it.
Having decided, Yang Yeon-hwi positioned herself before the mirror. She let a faint smile play on her lips. Anyone could see it was the elegant, refined image of a chaste beauty reflected there. Humble as she was, she might not think of her own beauty that way. In any case, Yang Yeon-hwi thoroughly imprinted the mirror's image in her mind. She had the extraordinary talent to recreate remembered scenes perfectly on paper. That's why she was hailed as the Painting Immortal.
“……Alright then.”
Finally, Yang Yeon-hwi picked up her brush. All preparations were complete.
Swish swish.
The brush moved in fluid, effortless strokes. Gentle wrist motions without a hint of strain, yet drawing lines of perfect precision and delicacy. Not a single deviation—it was the kind of movement that drew gasps of admiration. That divine touch paused at one spot. Precisely at her chest.
“Hm……”
Yang Yeon-hwi fell into contemplation. Of course, she knew it. Her breasts were easily larger than the average woman's—far larger. Honestly, those huge breasts were a nuisance. They got in the way during every activity. Unfortunately, that applied to painting her self-portrait too. If she depicted them realistically, they'd dominate the canvas and ruin the overall balance.
But.
“……Still, better to paint them as they are.”
For some reason, it felt right. Especially as a gift for the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord, who specifically wanted her self-portrait. A natural one, without artistic exaggeration, would be best.
Swish.
Yang Yeon-hwi resumed. Even clothed, she couldn't hide their immense size—she rendered her breasts with stark realism. Once the chest was done, her pace quickened. The underdrawing was finished in no time. Now for coloring.
Coloring was her specialty. She took a coloring brush and began filling the paper with hues that were realistic yet subtly vibrant.
“Hoo.”
Catching her breath, Yang Yeon-hwi set down her brush for a moment. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. It might seem like a sedentary task, but painting demanded both mental and physical stamina—a supreme effort. Especially for someone like her, pouring in utmost concentration. The dual fatigue weighed her down. But she couldn't rest yet. The self-portrait was done, but one final step remained: the inscription.
The inscription was essential. It proved who painted it.
Yang Yeon-hwi moved her hand to pick up the inscription brush. Dipping it in ink, she brought it to the empty space below the painting.
—Painting Immortal.
She wrote that first. She found the title hard to bear herself, but she couldn't ignore the collectors' feelings. To them, the value lay in "a painting by the Painting Immortal"—omitting the title was unthinkable.
—Yang Yeon-hwi.
Next, her full name, naturally.
—Cloud Middle Pavilion.
The place painted.
—[Year] [Month] [Day]. Sun, moon, and stars.
There the brush paused. She pondered the reason for painting. It wasn't strictly necessary. Normally, she might skip it. But this time, it felt right to include.
—In Gratitude.
That's what she settled on. A token of thanks for the grace received. Concise and fitting.
Finally, for whom. This one was obvious.
—Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord.
Yang Yeon-hwi wrote that last. She'd considered Go-eui, but he'd clearly said it was for the Golden Dragon Battlefield Lord.
“Done.”
With all tasks complete, her mind finally eased. Now she could collect the medicine and return to her husband. Yang Yeon-hwi's expression lightened.
Shwaaak.
Bang So-un carefully unrolled the received painting.
“Heh.”
An exclamation escaped him the moment he saw it. The figure seemed ready to leap off the canvas, alive and breathing. The overwhelming vitality was captured perfectly. And that wasn't all. The colors drew even more awe. Utterly natural—no awkwardness or deviation anywhere. Yet laced with a subtle, eye-pleasing brilliance.
A self-portrait, restrained by modesty, and still this good—what must her usual work be like?
“Excellent. Truly excellent. Amazing.”
Bang So-un marveled repeatedly. Compared to paintings he'd seen before, this was on another level—hardly worthy of the name otherwise.
“Haha, I agree, young master. Especially that part.”
Jang Il chuckled, pointing to one spot. The area with enormous breasts that even clothing couldn't conceal. Bang So-un smirked, as if to say I knew it.
“The face is nice too.”
A refined beauty with elegant poise. The natural faint smile was perfect.
“Ideal for the slave ledger—her everyday look.”
Jang Il grinned slyly. The slave ledger wouldn't just hold lewd nudes. That would be boring. The contrast between her natural, everyday self—smiling innocently, oblivious to her fate—and her descent into hypnotic slavery. That was key. It maximized the visual and situational thrill.
“Hahaha, exactly.”
Bang So-un wore a satisfied smile. Yang Yeon-hwi hadn't just painted a self-portrait. She'd created the first entry for his slave ledger herself. And inscribed not just her title and name, but even "In Gratitude." The sheer irony was thrilling.
“Her skill satisfies me completely, so let's do this.”
“How so?”
“Add more paintings to the slave ledger. Pictures are far more stimulating than words, aren't they?”
“Great idea, young master. The old plan felt a bit lacking anyway. Now that we've lucked into a master painter, it's totally feasible.”
“Haha, then let's decide the next one.”
Dumping them all at once wouldn't do. Better to show her gradual fall from normal woman to slave, captured in paint. Especially since he'd savor them later. Plus, as her hypnosis deepened progressively, the plan would proceed smoothly. The medicine for Sal-gwi needed time anyway. No need to rush—proceed steadily and wait for ripeness.
“Here's what I think.”
And so Bang So-un and Jang Il eagerly discussed the next painting.