13 Mink Street

Chapter 102: Painting, Prophecy!

Karon opened his eyes. He was still sitting on the steps, and he realized that there were quite a few people standing around him.

He was indescribably exhausted, yet indescribably alert. His exhaustion was physical, as his body had once again reached the brink of overdrawing. It was only a little better than the last time when he had finished talking with Earl Rekar.

His clarity was purposeful. People feared the night because the dark obscured direction, but once a true guiding light appeared ahead, the darkness immediately went from baring its fangs to being nothing more than a dull, tedious backdrop.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off.” As Karon slowly rose to his feet, Alfred reached out to support him.

At that moment, Eunice stepped forward. Alfred hesitated, but then retreated half a step, allowing her to take his place supporting his young master.

“Take me back to my bedroom,” Karon told Eunice.

“Mhmm.”

With her supporting him, Karon returned to his bedroom. He first sat on the edge of the bed while Eunice made the bed. She then held him and helped him to lie down.

“I’m not that weak,” Karon protested with a smile.

“You’ve been having problems with your body lately. You need to rest more,” Eunice said.

“Mm, okay.” Karon lay back and Eunice pulled the blanket up to cover him. “Right, Eunice.”

“What is it?”

“Can you help me borrow a set of painting tools from your father?”

“Of course, but you can’t paint right now. At least wait until you’ve rested.”

“Of course. I’m planning to paint after I wake. I just had a dream, and I want to paint it as soon as I’m rested. You know how it is; if you wait too long, you forget what it looks like.”

“I understand. I’ll prepare the tools before you wake. Which paints do you need? Father has all kinds.”

“There’s no need for any paints. I’ll mix them myself. Oh, right. There’s a box in that cabinet over there. It has three sets of paint in it. Help me; Take one and give it to your father.”

“Father doesn’t need it.”

“Oh, he asked me for it.”

“Really?” Eunice walked to the cabinet and opened it. Inside was a box, and in it were three sets of paint, exquisitely made. “Just take one?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll thank you on Father’s behalf.”

“No need to be so polite.”

“Then rest well.”

“Okay.”

Eunice took the paint and left the bedroom.

A little later, Pu’er rode the golden retriever into the bedroom. The cat jumped straight onto the bed. “Karon, just now you...”

Karon, who had just laid down, turned around to look at Pu’er. She had been about to ask whether Karon had completed his Divine Seeker revelation, but when Karon’s eyes swept over her, for reasons she could not explain, she immediately swallowed the rest of her words.

Pu’er silently backed up, and then jumped down from the bed.

The golden retriever also looked at Karon with curiosity, but followed Pu’er’s lead and slowly edged towards the bedroom door behind the cat.

It was neither fear nor authority, but something difficult to name. Karon’s gaze made it clear that this was not the time for a conversation, and those who looked at him found themselves instinctively choosing not to disturb him.

After leaving the bedroom, Pu’er’s eyes bulged and she looked back at the door in confusion. Alfred had already closed it.

“What kind of expression was that?” Pu’er asked.

The golden retriever shook its head, indicating it did not know either.

“So what kind of Divine Seeker revelation did the God of Order give him?” Pu’er asked again.

The golden retriever shook its head again.

“Then we wait until he’s rested.”

The golden retriever nodded vigorously.

Pu’er raised her head to look at Alfred, finding that he had placed both hands in front of his chest and was looking intoxicated.

“Radio demon, what are you doing?”

With his eyes closed, Alfred replied, “Did you not notice? Just now, in the young master’s eyes, there was clarity and depth.

“A great existence has already made his path clear.

“He will become strong.

“He will become towering.

“He will stride forward with firm steps.

“A great chapter will set sail at this moment.”

Wide-eyed, the golden retriever stared at Alfred, who was lost in self-induced emotion.

Pu’er laughed. “Did lightning strike your antenna and break it?”

A hint of disdain appeared at the corner of Alfred’s mouth.

“What is with that smile?” Pu’er asked.

“Woof!”

Alfred waved a hand, pulled a chair over, and sat down. He would continue guarding the young master while he rested. “In your eyes, the young master is another young Tiz, but in my eyes, the young master has always been a truly great existence. When it comes to loyalty and faith toward the young master, neither of you can compare to me.”

With that, Alfred closed his eyes. In his heart, he added, Stupid mortals.

Hm? No, stupid beasts.

***

Karon did not fall asleep immediately, but lay on the bed with his eyes open.

He wanted to paint the scene from his dream.

At that moment, the limitations of a camera became obvious. It could capture what existed in reality, but it could not capture a dream.

That was why Karon had Eunice take one set of the paint Linda had gifted him and deliver it to Bede.

He knew Bede and Linda were connected. Most likely, once Karon awoke, Bede would immediately come to see him, and Karon would ask for help painting the scene from his dream.

It was only a single image and would not lead to anything further. Karon also trusted that Bede had the ability to render it perfectly.

Should he sleep now?

No. He wanted to wait a little longer.

Karon sat up, took the notebook from beneath his pillow, and drew out the pen tucked inside its cover. He opened to a fresh blank page and paused before writing, because he knew exactly what he was about to set down.

Thoughts are often free. They may border on blasphemy, but so long as they remain unspoken, they differ entirely from words committed to paper. The moment something is written, in whatever form, it acquires the possibility of being read by someone else.

The hesitation did not last long. Karon lowered his pen and wrote a title:

Divine Seeker is, in truth, a deception.

Then he added:

If humans can deceive even themselves, why should god be any different?

When he wrote that line, Karon’s pen tip hesitated slightly over the words. In the end, he drew a single line through it, but did not add a second or third, nor did he completely strike it out.

He continued writing.

A god will cover your eyes and tell you that ahead lies a bottomless cliff.

A god will cover your ears and tell you that evil spirits are howling all around.

A god will erase your limbs and tell you that you are alone, that you are lost, that you are helpless.

A god will make you cry because he happens to have a handkerchief in hand to wipe your tears.

A god will guide the lost you toward the correct direction, yet never tell you that you were already walking the correct road.

If, from the moment you are born, you are told that the sky is black, the grass is blue, and the clouds are red, then within your cognition, the sky is black, the grass is blue, and the clouds are red.

You are right, because you will say the sky and the sea are the same color, the grass and the shade of trees are the same color, and the clouds and white sand are the same color.

Thus, the god is never wrong.

When you choose to believe in and revere a god, that god becomes supreme.

Karon stopped writing. After a while, he continued.

Why does a god lie?

What is a god afraid of?

Is a god truly what is called a ‘god’?

Suddenly, the pen tip began to tremble.

It was not the pen.

It was Karon’s hand, and with it, Karon’s teeth began to chatter.

He began to breathe deeply, again and again, yet the more deeply he breathed, the heavier the fatigue grew.

He knew he needed rest, desperately, but Karon still gritted his teeth, pressed down on his trembling wrist, and wrote the final line.

After becoming a god, is it that no one is permitted to walk the same road?

After writing it, he closed the notebook, dropped the pen, and his head tilted to the side.

He fell asleep.

***

“How is Young Master Karon?” Master Anderson asked Eunice as she came downstairs.

“He needs rest. Other than that, he’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Anderson looked puzzled. “The young master’s physical condition...”

“I think it might be because the young master helped treat me, which caused him to he overdraw himself,” Mike suggested from his wheelchair, feeling rather guilty.

Bede said, “That’s probably it.”

“In any case, the young master’s body must be cared for. Eunice, you must pay more attention,” Master Anderson instructed.

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“Mm. Everyone, keep working. The funeral cannot be delayed.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Yes, Father.”

After everyone dispersed, Eunice caught up to her father. “Father.”

“What is it?”

“Karon asked me to give you this paint.”

“Oh, paint?” Bede took it from his daughter. The instant it settled in his hand, his body trembled slightly, though he forced himself to remain calm. “When Young Master Karon wakes, I will personally go thank him.”

“He wants you to help him paint something, Father. I think this paint is the payment.”

“Oh, is that so? I understand. Of course there is no problem. Right, I need you to go to the head maid and check how the silverware is coming along.”

“I understand, Father.”

After watching his daughter leave, Bede clutched the paint and hurried to the basement. He unlocked his studio door with a key, then immediately locked it again.

None of the servants, nor even any members of the family would enter his studio. The lock was not to keep outsiders out. It was a psychological cue for himself.

Bede sat before a blank easel, opened the paint, and began mixing colors on a palette. Once prepared, he began painting at once. He painted very quickly, almost without thought or pause. It was less like painting and more like developing a negative that already existed in his mind.

Soon, the image began to take shape: the Allen Manor. An ancient, imposing structure.

The focus and main perspective was the building’s entrance. On the steps sat a blond young man, who appeared to be dozing, yet his expression suggested struggle and pain.

Two people stood with him, one in front, the other behind, both protecting him.

As the work gained greater detail, each figure grew increasingly clearer. It was, in fact, Bede’s own perspective, from where he had been standing earlier.

Karon sat on the steps undergoing Divine Seeker revelation, as others stood around him. Even the servants were shown to be busy in the distance, and the cat and the dog were painted in a corner.

At that point, Bede put down his brush and rose. He began pacing nervously before the easel, even biting at his nails.

“What changed? What’s wrong? It shouldn’t be. It’s not right,” he murmured to himself, as if slipping into a fit.

Suddenly, he walked over to a painting that was covered by a white cloth. He yanked the cloth away.

It was also of the Allen manor, but the sky was blood-red, while below was complete darkness. Within the manor, many people lay on the floors, their faces twisted in pain as they cried out. Many tried to flee through the windows, yet some unseen thing dragged them back.

It was a human tragedy, no, a tragedy of the Allen manor.

Behind the manor in the painting, a mass of shadow extended outward. Its exact form was unclear, yet it carried a strange oppression. It was tall and long. One could make out black, vine-like tendrils extending endlessly, like a demon’s tentacles, capturing its sustenance.

Within that black mist, several faces could be faintly seen, though they were almost completely submerged.

Looking at the painting, Bede stopped being nervous. His expression grew calm, and his breathing steadied.

None of the paintings in his studio bore signatures. He had no intention of holding a private exhibition, so there was no stamp, either. However, on the corner of each white cloth, a date had been written with a fountain pen.

This painting, The Tragedy of the Allen Manor, had been created one year before.

“Heh heh heh... heh heh...” A smile appeared on Bede’s face. He seemed very satisfied with his work.

Still smiling, he went to another painting and removed its covering.

It was yet another scene of the Allen manor. Everything appeared normal; People walked about, chatting. It was simply the manor’s daily life.

The smile on Bede’s face gradually faded, yet he still forced it to remain. It became clear how strained it was. He then went to the wall and tore away the cloth that covered it. It was the painting of Linda summoning the Wall God Rilsaar.

“Ugh, eek, ugh...” Strange sounds came from Bede’s throat. He could not control himself, and he began flailing as a bizarre excitement took hold. It lasted for a peculiarly long time.

Then he lifted the cloth from the painting that sat in the farthest corner of the huge studio. This painting was of a study, a very ordinary office.

There was a desk, with no one seated behind it. Yet there should have been someone, because the lid of the teacup was floating in midair, and a fountain pen stood upright.

“AAAAAAAH!!!!!!!” Bede opened his mouth and screamed at the painting.

“He lied to you! He lied to you!” Bede shouted. “He lied to you! He lied to you!”

He lifted the easel and smashed it to the floor. The easel easily shattered, but the paper simply slid down, intact.

“He’s just lying to you! Lying to you!”

Bede knelt before the painting, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He acted as though he wanted to tear it apart, yet forced himself not to.

“You’ve already gone down the wrong road. This is the misfortune destined for your family! Even if you can see it clearly, you should choose to remain silent and simply watch.

“Like the turning of the seasons. Don’t mourn the fading of green. Don’t celebrate the retreat of summer heat. Don’t cling to autumn’s harvest. Don’t flee from winter’s cold. Whether you care or not, they will come. Whether you try to stop them or not, they will pass.

“You should step out of it. Stand outside it. Watch it. Appreciate it. Praise it. Only when your heart has no more attachments can your vision, your brush, present what is truly pure. You understand all of this. Don’t you?”

He tilted his head and raised the painting of the study. “You’ve taken the wrong road. You actually tried to seek help to avoid the family’s disaster.

“He agreed to help you, but look! Look at what has changed! What has changed? Why don’t you sit back down and finish the painting you abandoned?!

“Do you dare? Do you dare!

“When you pick up the brush, you should be fearless! You should complete your painting in the most realistic way possible, instead of running away!

“Ahhhhh—”

Bede threw the painting aside and started kicking over the easels throughout the studio one after another.

At last, the canvas he had just finished was knocked down, and paint spilled from the palette across it.

There were two dominant colors: black and red. The black fell directly over the figure of Karon, covering him completely. It then began to spread on its own, creeping like dark vines, connecting him to every other figure in the painting.

The red splashed across the rest, staining everyone except the black mass that enveloped Karon.

Bede stared at the canvas. He had never intended to finish it, yet it had finished itself.

It looked like a black tree was growing from Karon’s body, its branches piercing every person present. Bede lowered his head and saw that some of the splattered paint had stained his own chest.

Red meant blood.

Red meant death.

“You think he truly wants to help the Allen family? No! He’s only using the Allen family as a sacrifice for his own grandson. Hahaha...

“Only you are still naïve enough to believe he can remove the family’s disaster. Look at it now. Look at it now. The disaster was always going to happen. The only thing that changed was who benefits, but a sacrifice is still a sacrifice.”

Bede remained kneeling before the painting, his gaze vacant. The canvases he had uncovered earlier, if arranged by date from earliest to latest, would read: The Tragedy at Allen Manor, The Study, Linda Summons the Wall God, Daily Life at Allen Manor, and finally, the one now before him.

“This is a destined disaster. It is the opportunity god has given you to grow, to advance, to gain the divine perspective and courage to see the true landscape of this world. You already defied god once, but god will forgive you. She has given you a second chance. You should seize it. You should seize it—”

He suddenly froze. “That... how is that possible...”

Motes of silver-white light began to shimmer across the remaining paint on the palette. The light was beautiful, pure. The black stain on Bede’s chest dissolved into drifting specks, like pale ash.

At the same time, the thick black mass on the canvas began to dissipate. Not smear. Evaporate.

Karon, who had been hidden beneath, gradually became clear again.

As the black at the center vanished, the vine-like lines extending from it also evaporated. Because those dark lines connected to every person in the painting, the red on each of them began to fade as well.

In the end, the red disappeared entirely from the bodies. The remaining red in the surrounding scene softened, turning into the hue of evening light.

Bede closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. The frenzy was gone. The hysteria had drained away. What remained was calm.

In his mind, he saw the study, and the old man sitting behind the desk.

His gaze fell upon the young man in the painting who was receiving divine revelation, his expression marked by pain.

At last, Bede pressed his cracked, bleeding lips together and murmured, “God... can god truly never be wrong?”