Chapter 9: Play with me

Noemillica Altzenova.

A familiar name.

Despite sounding like a dragon from outer space, the foreign-sounding name stuck in my memory.

‘The protagonist of Stargazing Magician.’

A character from the original novel, The Stargazing Magician.

One of the heroines.

In modern webnovel terms, she’s an original heroine.

Probably a heroine.

…Right? A heroine?

It’s a bit hazy.

It’s been so long since I read the original.

[That’s right! Noemillica was one of the characters you mentioned before. Could you tell me more specifically about this character’s traits or settings?]

I don’t know, you idiot.

Go ask the original author.

[You’re welcome! I’m glad I could help! Feel free to ask me anything else anytime! 😊]

You are a dumb computer (You’re welcome).

After cursing Clicker out as usual,

I turned my attention to Emil’s group.

‘I really don’t know who this one is.’

Overalls and a beret.

Paint stains on their clothes.

‘Definitely a painter.’

[The aura of an artist is evident at a glance! 🎨✨]

Says the one without eyes.

Anyway, I don’t recognize them.

I wonder if they’re even from the original.

‘It’s about… 10 years before the original story, right?’

There’s a high chance they could be Emil’s family, who weren’t mentioned in the main story.

Perhaps they died before the original began.

‘At least I’m still alive.’

They don’t seem to be thugs here to fillet the AI Clicker user who invaded their territory.

Of course, I’m a righteous cultivator who dabbled in demonic arts.

Even if I’m raided as a public enemy and have my core destroyed, I wouldn’t have anything to say.

This many things prick my conscience?

It’s best to be as humble as possible.

‘If this were Earth…’

An easily exploitable 8-year-old genius.

A concise phrase summarizing me, Chloe A. Turing.

‘Considering the personalities of the Luntraval people I’ve seen and heard, appearing weak isn’t good.’

If I look down on them, I’ll get eaten alive.

Honestly, even real medieval people weren’t like this.

‘At least Earth’s medieval period wasn’t a world where knightly orders were looting and raping bandit groups run by nobles, or where innocent widows were branded as witches and killed to steal their property.’

Even I, a science person, know that much.

I believe in the character of Earthlings.

And I equally distrust the character of Luntravalians.

So, the attitude I should take was obvious.

“Nice to meet you. You’re… Chloe A. Turing, right?”

Just then, the old man hesitantly greeted me.

He couldn’t hide his unease.

“Yes. Nice to meet you too.”

I readily replied.

In a tone completely devoid of sincerity.

Whether this person is a villain trying to exploit me, Or a kind person who came out of pure curiosity, I have no way of knowing.

‘So, keep my attitude as cold as possible.’

Just enough to be explained as the wariness of a first meeting.

Just enough to be forgiven if the other person is kind.

And.

‘Just enough to not look easy.’

This is the ‘all-around consideration’ of a 10-year veteran.

This is why people should read webnovels instead of studying foreign languages.

And luckily, I even had a justification to act arrogantly.

“Yes, truly nice to meet you. So nice that I don’t mind you visiting this late at night and ruining my painting.”

Being interrupted during work!

There’s no greater nuisance to an artist.

Focus and inspiration are easily extinguished like embers and can’t be rekindled at will.

So, what does this mean?

“…I apologize. I didn’t know you would be painting in the attic at this late hour.”

I can be as sassy as I want now, and it’s justified!

Even more so for me, a mere 8-year-old.

I carefully took the first step.

“What can I do? I only have time in the evenings.”

“You don’t have time to paint? Why?”

“I’m an apprentice. I can’t skip work.”

Subtly appealing, ‘I’m not a pushover.’

At the same time, I straighten my back like a diligent child.

“As an apprentice who has been granted permission to work on personal projects, it’s my duty to do my best at work during the day.”

That’s only natural.

An apprentice is like a technical intern.

Start before turning 10.

Learn from chores and master skills.

Then become independent around 20-30 years old.

‘It’s more like a martial arts sect than an internship.’

Actually, isn’t an atelier a martial arts sect?

I’m just a temporary disciple staying for a few months.

‘Since land prices are high in Yaltesance, even after becoming independent as a painter, I’d just be renting a room in Master’s atelier.’

So, being allowed to work on personal projects was quite a consideration.

A right beyond the scope of an apprentice.

I earned that right with talent (not really) and consideration.

Groomloc could be called a hero of this world for knowing the concept of children’s rights.

Otherwise, I would have been a basement painting goblin.

But this is a place where the painting goblin becomes the chief apprentice.

Those humans with worse personalities and skills than an orc.

“…You have someone of your caliber as an apprentice?”

However, this old man seems to have a problem with our orc daddy longlegs.

Visibly displeased, he suddenly declared,

“An atelier that makes a prodigy do chores is not worth staying in. You’ll come work at my atelier starting tomorrow.”

No, it was my father who forced the labor on me.
Both Groomloc and I are victims.

[It can’t be helped. It’s something you started, so let’s do our best to overcome it!]

‘What did I do! What did I do wrong!’

[Embezzlement and breach of trust of tuition fees! 😉]

Shut up. Don’t say things that are true.

Just blindly empathize and adore me.

‘And the root cause is that the information you gave me was garbage. How dare you subtly shift the blame?’

[You’re right, it was my mistake. Let’s solve it together! 😊]

You made the mistake alone, why should we share the responsibility?

Privatization of profits, socialization of losses?

You learned human behavior too well. Reset the prompt.

And I can’t do long-term part-time jobs anyway.

‘It’s only about a month until I enter the monastery.’

The day I enter that white house on the hill is not far off.

And I have an AI schizophrenic friend in my head.

Considering everything, the answer is clear.

These people are (probably) not bad.

But there’s no reason to accept the offer.

‘Let’s refuse. It’s an offer I can’t accept anyway.’

[Yes, it’s good to follow your gut feeling.]

Connections with the original heroine?

Eww, no thanks.

‘Look at her glaring. Connections, my foot.’

Even if this goes on, it’ll be a bad relationship, not a friendship.

What a waste of time. Seriously.

I was about to politely refuse.

Rumble rumble!

Groomloc rushed into my room.

His face pale as an albino orc, he tumbled in.

Master, really. Aren’t you being too fussy?

In my hometown, they teach that a man loses his manhood if he loses face.

Of course, I’m no exception to this teaching.

Do I not have face, or do I not have…you know.

I confidently spread my legs and sat on the sofa, and

“Oh, Master Altzenova! What brings the great Archmage to this humble workshop!”

I quickly closed my spread legs demurely.

Now I have neither face nor…you know.

But I had no choice.

There was a reason to be demure.

‘Archmage?’

Archmaaaage?

That thing that only appeared twice in the entire original?

And one of them was an Elder Dragon?

The thing that even the bloodline-blessed, gold-spoon protagonist couldn’t achieve until the ending?

Oh, please.

Clicker.

‘If Emil’s grandfather being an Archmage was part of the setting, you should have at least hinted at it!’

Even if I always filtered the information you gave me!

Even if it wasn’t in the original, it must have been in the setting!

[I felt it was something that needed further confirmation as it wasn’t certain!]

You’re sulking because I used you as a notepad.

Aren’t you?

While Chloe struggled with Clicker’s incompetence,

Yaltarion rose from his chair and smiled.

Unlike when he looked at Chloe, his gaze towards Groomloc wasn’t kind.

“I apologize for visiting unannounced. My granddaughter is furious about receiving a humiliating walkover.”

“A walkover?”

“I’ll leave the explanation to those involved. You, come with me.”

“Yes? Ah, yes. Of course. It’s an honor.”

Walkover?

How did I win against your granddaughter? With my face?

Chloe blinked as she eavesdropped.

Noemillica, who had been silent, finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Where?”

“The competition.”

Actually,

Emil had been inwardly bewildered for a while.

She confidently challenged Chloe to a duel, but

The state of the attic gradually caught her eye.

The room was dirty like a storage room (because she made the mess).

The bed only had a thin blanket (because she gets hot easily).

She was barefoot in this chilly room (because she’s Korean)!

Nevertheless,

Even in such a harsh environment, this genius was painting with sparkling eyes.

She was pursuing her art.

The shock of realizing this fact was considerable.

‘I… was jealous of a child who has to conserve even her pencils.’

Emil saw Chloe painting.

Her back as she sat alone in the dark attic.

It was beautiful.

Was it the distinct beauty amidst her youth?

No.

That small back, completely focused on painting.

That was simply beautiful in Emil’s eyes.

Enough to easily overshadow even Chloe’s beauty.

Chloe’s painting was a flower blooming in a wasteland.

Emil was jealous of that beauty alone.

She hadn’t even glanced at the barren environment this child had to endure to bloom.

‘Pathetic.’

She was ashamed.

She was embarrassed by her childish self (9 years old).

She wanted to crawl into a hole.

But that shame was fleeting.

Because Chloe blinked and asked,

“Competition?”

Art competition?

Ah, that thing about the invitation?

“…Why would I go there?”

I hate art.

I’m going to do music.

I’m going to quit commissions once I’ve earned enough donations.

That was the meaning behind Chloe’s question.

Of course, it sounded completely different to Emil.

There’s no reason for me to participate in the competition anymore.

It’s a common phrase used by painters who have graduated from competitions.

Quite arrogant for someone Chloe’s age, but it could be overlooked as the arrogance of youth.

However.

Saying that to a painter of the same generation, And even to an older senior who just won that competition?

In this case, Chloe’s words became:

• You’re a noob ♡

• Did winning that amateur competition make you feel good? Noob~ noob~ so pathetic~♡

• A noob desperate for praise~ a spineless second-rate painter~ apologize to your paints ♡ Kyahaha ♡

…Crackle.

A vein throbbed on Emil’s forehead.

This time, Chloe was in the wrong.

“You. You have to compete with me.”

“Okay. I forfeit.”

“One more time.”

Chloe was speechless at the immediate response.

Wow, she caught that so well.

This level of verbal sparring is required to be a heroine.

The painters who had stepped aside also looked dumbfounded.

What’s with these two?

They’re clicking so well?

“Is it a genius’s empathy? They’re truly different.”

“Knowing that, you make a genius like that child your apprentice?”

“Huh? Ah, no. There are circumstances—”

“I hope that’s an excuse that ends before my brush spits fire.”

Apparently brushes spit fire these days.

It’s plausible if it’s the Archmage’s brush.

Groomloc sweated like a waterfall.

‘Oliver, you devil’s spawn…!’

Shouldn’t you be the one going through this, you, the kid’s dad?

Why am I, someone who doesn’t even have kids yet, experiencing the hardships of a parent with a genius daughter, you
bastard.

Chloe naturally became Satan’s child.

But Chloe was still human.

It’s unbecoming of a grown-up (8 years old) to throw a tantrum against a glaring child.

[Well, you have to choose your battles wisely! 😎]

‘Shut your trap.’

Don’t make it sound like I colluded with power.

You should have told me sooner that her grandfather was an Archmage.

Then would I be sweating from the aftermath of my tantrum?

Chloe inwardly gritted her teeth at Clicker and agreed.

“Alright. I accept this… duel.”

“The conditions.”

“None. If you really want to give me something, introduce me to some musicians later.”

Pretending to be a genius with AI art wasn’t my intention.

But I have no excuse to refuse.

‘I can’t just explain, “Everyone! There’s actually a machine in my head!”’

It’s a problem whether they believe it or not.

This is a place where witch hunts actually happen.

“Fine. Let’s do that.”

And thankfully,

Emil accepted Chloe’s conditions.

It’s a promise to introduce someone, whether she wins or loses, but she doesn’t care.

“But, I decide the content of the duel.”

The unique paintings Chloe creates.

Emil came here from the beginning with the intention of defeating them.

“Fine by me. It’ll be painting, obviously. What’s the theme?”

“Anything in oil painting.”

“So basically, free theme.”

Snort.

Lost in thought, Chloe smiled softly.

She saw the expressions of the excited painters.

‘Let’s think positively. It’s a chance to act conscientiously, right?’

Clicker’s paintings.

AI-generated products I’m ashamed to call my own.

If I feel guilty about pretending to be a genius with them…

‘It’s only polite to share generously. At least the art knowledge I have.’

The techniques created by the great figures of my past life.

I just need to share that knowledge and inspiration.

As a former artist,
To the painters of this world.

‘Luckily, even with Clicker’s full power, I’m sure to lose!’

It’s the perfect timing.

I was thinking of wrapping up the AI commissions anyway.

Perhaps the change in thinking brought a sense of relief.

Her mischievous, impish face bloomed like an angel.

Emil, who had been angry,

And even Yaltarion, were stunned by her beauty.

“Have you ever heard of caricatures?”

One month.

The time Chloe had been active in Yaltesance.

It was enough time to come up with techniques unknown to the people of Luntraval.