Shikiriyan: The Struggling Painter (Part 4)

"See? Deep down, many artists are kind people. They have sensitive souls."

Whenever Mayutan was happy, his thick eyebrows would comically bounce up and down.

"So, what should we do first, meow?" asked Tanimaki.

"Let's start by cleaning. We'll split up and work together. Just be careful not to break any of the pottery or other works of art lying around."

Following Mayutan's instructions, everyone quietly got to work. Since Tanimaki looked like he might break something, however, he was assigned to clean the entrance instead.

"Sigh... This is so boring, meow."

Having no motivation whatsoever, Tanimaki did a half-hearted job. Later, Ruritel grumbled as she cleaned the entrance all over again.

At first, Shikiriyan had barely spoken a word to anyone. But as they lived together, he gradually began talking with the others.

Mealtimes, in particular, often turned into passionate discussions about his ideals and his philosophy of art.

Whenever he spoke, he accompanied his words with broad, dynamic gestures, almost as if he were performing a dance.

"My paintings have hardly been recognized by the world. I'm seventy-two years old now. But if I can spend the rest of my life painting what I truly want to paint, even if I end up dying penniless, I'll have no regrets."

Sometimes, Shikiriyan would also speak about a love from his past.

Long ago, there had been a woman he loved with all his heart. But by the time he met her, she had already chosen someone else. Unable to fulfill his feelings, he had poured all of that pain into his art.

The first to find herself drawn to Shikiriyan's passion for art was Ruritel.

More than anyone else, she devoted herself to taking care of him. Yet the age difference between them was simply too great. Because of that, Shikiriyan never saw Ruritel as a romantic partner.

Even so, a quiet change had begun to take root within his heart.

As he watched Ruritel tirelessly caring for him, she gradually came to embody, in his eyes, life itself—beautiful precisely because it was fleeting.

Before long, Shikiriyan began asking her to pose as the model for his paintings.

Only then did he finally realize that the "true art" he had spent his entire life searching for could be found in life's quietest moments—a casual gesture, a fleeting smile.

"Would it be possible for Ruritel to stay here with me for as long as she can?... If you're willing to grant me that wish, I'll tell you where the Nyaon Jar is."

With those words, Shikiriyan bowed deeply before Mayutan and the others.