Chapter 244
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 244
Chapter Title: There's a Gift
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"...You've gone and torn up the herb garden again, Your Highness."
"I needed herbs for my experiments."
"I told you to leave that sort of thing to me."
"By the time I called you over and gave the order, I could've already found what I needed myself. It's faster and more precise that way."
"And yet I end up spending several times longer cleaning up the mess you've made of the herb garden?"
"...Be that as it may, I did nothing wrong."
Maia realized it.
This was a dream.
"It's good that you enjoy developing new medicines and research, but please make sure to eat properly at least."
"Don't worry about me. My body isn't so frail that skipping a few meals will cause problems."
"Is that something to say during your growth spurt?"
"If something goes wrong with my body, I can just treat it with medicine."
"Your Highness, I've told you time and again not to make a habit of taking medicine."
Rusty like an old box.
Sharp like a black-and-white photograph.
Faded, yet warm dream.
"Lately, my daughters have been so overbearing, I don't know what to do with them."
"Karl, if you're always holed up in places like this instead of looking after your daughters, of course their upbringing suffers."
"There are plenty of people who could educate my daughters in my stead, but you're the only one who can attend to Your Highness."
"Hmph. It's not that you're the only one who can attend me—it's that the others avoid me."
"Don't take it to heart, Your Highness."
Even in that dream from hundreds of years ago, what felt especially vivid was the gentle smile and the soft hand clasping hers.
The warmth seeping faintly through the glove was so cozy...
"It's not that we don't want to serve you—circumstances just prevent it. Everyone in the Green Dragon Clan truly, from the heart—cough."
...The cold splash of blood on her cheek pierced even sharper and colder.
The moment Maia woke, she felt a wave of discomfort.
It wasn't just because of the dream.
The liquid she had been soaking in had lost its original clarity, turning murky sometime during her sleep.
'...Because of the dream.'
Normally, it would have been just slightly translucent.
Staring coldly at the now dull green liquid, Maia slowly rose from the tank.
She wiped the liquid from her body more carefully than usual and diagnosed her own condition.
Slightly slowed pulse.
Chill permeating her entire body.
A faint but rising pain.
Her body was in slightly worse shape than usual across the board. Maia furrowed her brow.
'My mistake.'
She had been in relatively good condition the past few days, so she had slacked on self-care.
Rendering her diagnosis as a physician, she reached for a vial of medicine.
She paused just as she was about to take out a pill.
'Your Highness, I've told you time and again not to make a habit of taking medicine.'
Perhaps because she was still half-asleep.
She fell silent for a moment as the voice echoed clearly in her mind.
"Hmph. Even in my dreams, nagging pointlessly. Just like you."
With a snort, Maia put the vial away.
She dressed properly and arranged her hair.
Her body felt a bit heavy from the poor condition, but it didn't matter.
For the Green Dragon Princess, doing things without attendants was all too familiar and natural.
The dream from moments ago had simply made that normalcy feel strangely unfamiliar.
A short while later.
Maia passed through the long corridor leading from her sealed chamber into the artificial garden, as always—and froze.
A presence in what should have been an empty garden.
And the surrounding landscape, transformed astonishingly in just one day, made her slowly take in the scene without realizing it.
'This is...'
In place of the formerly smooth rear wall rose a jagged cliff of bizarre rocks.
Below the left cliff stretched an endless grand forest.
Ahead loomed several mountain peaks piercing through the mist.
To the right appeared a vast plain ending at the horizon.
And instead of floor channels, a thin stream crossed the garden, flowing from a waterfall cascading off the cliff.
The scenery was utterly fantastical.
It made Maia momentarily suspect she had been kidnapped while asleep and transported to some remote mountain valley.
But she soon realized it was an illusion.
Not just because no human could kidnap her in her sleep.
Her keen eyesight quickly discerned the trick behind the vista.
'...Sculptures?'
Indeed.
The rocky cliff.
The forest of wood and leaves.
The bird's-eye-view peaks through artificial mist.
The expansive plain and horizon.
All of it was mere artificial sculptures, not real.
Incredibly precise craftsmanship and optical illusions combined to create a majestic sense of overlooking the world from a sheer cliff.
"Ah, you're awake?"
Too real to be fake.
Too fantastical to be real.
As she stood silently admiring the breathtaking, surreal beauty, she slowly turned her head.
In a flowerbed corner sat a young man who had been whittling something with a platinum carving knife. He stood up, and she asked softly,
"...Your doing?"
"If you're asking who made these sculptures, that would be me."
"All by yourself, in just one night?"
"I don't remember pulling two all-nighters, or seeing anyone else carving here besides me."
An absurd answer.
Even ignoring the intricacy, the scale of the wall carvings would take at least a week with countless workers.
Let alone one person—it wasn't humanly possible.
But Maia didn't doubt its truth.
She knew Rimon's sculpting speed was unnaturally fast.
What she couldn't understand wasn't 'how,' but 'why.'
"Why do something like this?"
"The result of faithfully following my slave duties."
"What do you mean?"
"You're the one who told me to learn sculpture from that sculptor fellow, right?"
True enough.
She had wanted to observe how far Rimon's already versatile talents would go under a top sculptor.
She hadn't expected results like this, though.
"What does that have to do with this?"
"The sculptor said my pieces were perfect but lacked humanity."
"Humanity?"
"Creativity or personality, things like that."
Maia narrowed her eyes upon hearing the critique Hermann had given Rimon.
"The difference between imitation and creation?"
"Something like that."
Creativity in challenging the new, or an artist's unique personality, arises from imperfection.
Overly superior technique can swallow even creativity and personality.
In other words, Rimon's problem was starting out too perfect.
Unlike sculptors who built their style through repeated failures, his works—however perfect—were mere imitations.
"Better an imperfect creation than perfect imitation?"
"He seemed to think a true sculptor should achieve perfect creation."
"Hmph, ridiculous."
Maia sneered.
"In our long history, all brilliant, original works have already been made. Is pure creation, untouched by any imitation, even possible?"
"Probably not."
Rimon shrugged.
Reinterpreting past masterpieces or adapting elements from familiar works that moved you.
In this modern age, creation uninfluenced by existing art was as absurd as a child born without parents.
"But using that as an excuse to just copy existing works turns you into a mere technician, not an artist. I could agree with that logic."
Machines can craft intricate sculptures too.
But no one calls a 3D printer that perfectly replicates inputs an artist.
Hermann's point: to become an irreplaceable true sculptor, you need something beyond technique.
"...And your agreement led to this spectacle?"
"More or less."
Rimon scratched his cheek.
He glanced around the four walls crafted to feel indistinguishably real.
"If creation is just another form of imitation anyway, why not imitate nature itself?"
"Sounds easy enough."
"It wasn't."
Accomplished in one night.
Which also meant even Rimon had to stay up all night for it.
Figuring out how to sculpt what materials in this confined space to maximize realism.
Trial and error testing and refining Hermann's techniques dozens of times.
"Still, I managed to get a feel for it, however faintly."
Rimon shrugged again.
Having already handled the Heart-Dark Violin, picking it up was easier.
Besides, a carving knife was still a blade.
Far more familiar than a violin he'd never touched in life, so mastery came quicker.
Maia smirked coldly at Rimon casually claiming he'd earn the knife's approval in days.
"I understand your circumstances."
Practicing sculpture all night because his master told him to learn—such a loyal slave.
She eyed him sharply with a mocking tone.
"But why practice here of all places?"
"Because I'm a slave."
"So you wanted to rebel against your master?"
"Heavens, no. A good slave offers the best finds to their master first, naturally."
"You dared remodel your master's garden without permission for that?"
"Need another reason?"
Rimon grinned shamelessly, as if delighting his master was a slave's duty.
Staring him down, Maia said coldly,
"No dinner tonight."
"Come now, isn't that harsh on a loyal slave?"
"On second thought, one day isn't enough. Fast until tomorrow."
"Have some mercy. I even prepared a gift for you on this rare occasion."
Maia furrowed her brow at the out-of-left-field remark.
Rimon beamed and held out an object he had been fiddling with moments before.
The instant she saw it,
Maia unwittingly raised an eyebrow.