Chapter 337
Chapter 337
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Art's Common Point
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I had been overthinking it too much.
There was also the fact that I couldn't give a simple answer to the question of what art is.
The whispers don't stop, and neither do my thoughts.
Aestheticism is simpler than I thought.
It just means thinking from the perspective of a completely insane person—which is the exact opposite of how I normally think.
Ignoring Eirin's gaze, which looked at me like I was insane, I continued speaking to the statue.
This wasn't sowing discord or anything like that.
It's just because they're the same art.
Art.
An area where it's hard to distinguish superiority, a place without right answers.
Art has no absolute standards.
If ten people look at one painting, each will feel different emotions—some will like it, others won't.
To one person, it might just be a child's scribble; to another, it could be a drawing by their beloved child.
And naturally, even that drawing will have some preferences.
Some paintings might be liked by five out of ten people, others by nine out of ten.
That doesn't prove one is superior, but those being compared might think otherwise.
...
I felt it when I saw the masterpiece.
That's beautiful.
At least by my standards.
Eirin didn't feel beauty looking at it—or at least, she acted the fastest and most rationally among us.
And when you see that beauty, anyone would feel despair.
-Kkii-gik...!
The statue I spoke to lets out a creaking noise as it rises.
Then, after gazing at the dancing masterpiece,
-Paat!
It kicks off the floor with agile movements and flies toward it.
And it clings to the masterpiece.
"Did you just incite jealousy in the statue?"
The Observer widens her eyes and looks at me. I shook my head at her words.
"No. I gave it a threat to its life."
The Observer tilts her head as if she has no idea what I'm talking about.
Jealousy, envy.
Not human emotions like that.
It's a deeper, more terrifying instinct.
"Threats to life are more subjective than you think."
I turn my gaze to the culprit who made me think of this.
Yoo Daon, staring blankly at the masterpiece.
"For some, getting shot or stabbed means thinking of death—something terrifying—but for others, it's just an obstacle, or not even that."
I'd die from a shot to the heart, but Yoo Daon wouldn't.
The statue probably wouldn't either.
"That thing was made for art."
Not made to survive—born for art.
"And what happens when it sees an artwork overwhelmingly superior to itself?"
"Worship? Adoration?"
The Observer tilts her head.
She's not wrong.
"That could happen."
If the two works were born from different creators.
"But those two works have the same creator."
No artwork is created all at once.
Every artwork goes through trial and error, revisions, and additions.
Once the most beautiful work is born, the practice pieces disappear.
They're mere byproducts for creating the beautiful artwork.
That's why they can never tolerate the existence of the masterpiece.
-Kkii-gik!
-Kkii-gi-gik!
As one statue starts moving, countless others leap at the masterpiece, swinging hands and feet.
"...Wow..."
The Observer, who had been staring blankly at the scene, turns to me.
"How did you come up with this?"
"Thinking from the examiner's perspective is the way to solve the problem."
In the end, nothing is without weakness. Perfection doesn't exist.
So, finding what's imperfect from their viewpoint is also a way to break it.
The Observer nods with arms crossed after hearing my explanation.
"That's really true."
...
She said that, but since I'd thrown quite the gamble myself, I let out a sigh of relief inwardly.
"Hoo, hoo..."
Meanwhile, Song Arin, who had been breathing heavily until then, points accusingly at the Observer.
"You really just sit there observing like your name suggests? You haven't helped with a single thing!"
"You're not using '-ssi' anymore, Arin-ssi?"
"I'm dying here—how am I supposed to act?!"
That's not wrong either.
"Well, if I move, I can't stay long."
The Observer says apologetically at Song Arin's words, then looks at me.
"Can't stay long?"
"Yeah. Like how Arin can't maintain acting for long."
So, does that mean Jang Chaeyeon is struggling to carry the Observer in her body?
"Don't look at me like that—it hurts a little."
"...Sorry."
I wonder what kind of look I was giving the Observer.
I bow my head slightly and apologize to her. She gives a wry smile and shakes her head.
"No. It's my fault for being greedy."
...
"I'll hand it back to Chaeyeon now."
"Yes. Please do."
After all, the one I'm close to is Jang Chaeyeon, not the Observer.
The Observer gives a wry smile, closes her eyes, and opens them again.
"...Goodbye."
Jang Chaeyeon was back in front of me.
"Were you worried about me?"
"I had to be."
...
She smiles faintly and turns her gaze forward.
Countless statues were piling onto the masterpiece, and it was fending them off.
"Is this how it ends?"
"I hope so."
That would be my ideal ending. The two fighting to mutual destruction.
"No need for us to butt in, right?"
"Probably not."
I slowly shake my head and think about what I could even do.
No point in me jumping in there—nothing good would come of it.
Best to stay back quietly and rest.
"The result will come if we wait."
In a three-way battle, if two sides are fighting desperately, staying out is the smart move.
As I thought that,
-Kung!
With a crashing sound, numerous statues crumble into powder.
"Hoo..."
But the remaining statues keep lunging at the masterpiece, the endless battle repeating.
In the process, the masterpiece couldn't emerge unscathed—chunks of the mannequin's body were torn off, blood beading on its face.
"...Unnie."
Jang Chaeyeon murmurs in a bitter voice as she watches.
The statues keep tearing at the mannequin's body,
"Stop!"
And from within, the masterpiece's rage-filled voice echoes, followed by,
-Kwang!
More statues turn to powder and vanish.
...
The masterpiece, its body battered, looks at us.
Unlike before, rage was clearly visible in its eyes.
...
I raise my gun and aim at it. It hastily pulls back.
It still fears my Critical.
Perhaps catching a brief respite—Yoo Daon and Song Arin step forward again, and Jang Chaeyeon follows them.
Just as the three are about to start fighting.
...
The word "stronger" flashes in my mind.
According to the Observer, the masterpiece has been growing stronger from the start until now.
So why is it still dodging my Critical?
Aestheticism, the mature form—things immune to Critical ignored it.
But this one is different.
It moves as if it's still vulnerable to Critical.
"Kyaaak!"
Yoo Daon screams and rolls on the floor. Song Arin clicks her tongue and yells.
"Does this make any sense?! Its reaction speed is even faster than before!"
If they're right, it's still growing stronger right now.
...!
A flash of insight hits me.
Paintings, art, and the ever-evolving masterpiece.
"Everyone, stick close!"
"What?!"
Song Arin widens her eyes at me. Yoo Daon, Jang Chaeyeon, and even Eirin rush to my side, and she scurries over too.
At the same time, the masterpiece lunges at us,
[Chronos's Shield: 10 seconds remaining]
A transparent barrier unfolds, halting its movement.
"What are you planning?!"
Yoo Daon looks at me. I take a deep breath and look at the others.
"Everyone, do you trust me?"
"No."
"Um, no."
"No..."
"Who would?"
Sadly, no positive responses to my question.
"But you can entrust your lives to me, right?"
"Yeah."
"We can."
"Of course!"
"...Sigh."
At least the answers to this one were positive.
"Good."
I exhale sharply and stare at the masterpiece, which paused briefly before the shield vanishes and retreats.
"We'll hold out."
"The branch chief is coming?"
Eirin looks at us curiously. I shake my head at her question.
"No. But if time passes, it's a fight we can win."
"...What does that mean?"
Eirin tilts her head.
"You'll see."
I say that and look at the others.
"Sticking together maximizes our chances of no one getting hurt."
"Even if we die, we die together."
Song Arin grumbles as she pulls out thread, and Yoo Daon stretches.
"I trust Jaeheon-ssi."
"Me too."
Jang Chaeyeon waves her hand at the masterpiece.
...
It's not hard.
This is a fight we win by enduring.
Because the greatest art must never change.