I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy Chapter 93

As I sniffed, montarily lost in the old mories, Sara tapped her head against my chin.

"I don’t rember!"

I smiled faintly at the pair of curious eyes looking up at .

"Of course you don’t. You’re a different kid."

"But the na’s the sa!"

"It’s not, you brat."

From what I rembered, Sara wasn’t particularly active or lively.

But she did know how to express herself well.

She spoke without caring about what others thought.

That wasn’t sothing just anyone could do.

The Sara sitting on my lap now was the complete opposite.

Maybe I should’ve brought a more expensive flower back then.

Thinking back, even though our ti was brief, I wondered if I’d been too thoughtless.

I didn’t know what Sara thought of , but she seed to know who I was.

When I painted [Sara], I simply portrayed her as I saw her.

A normal, ordinary child you could find anywhere.

Ignoring what others think was a default trait I added.

I thought that defined her.

Even the Sara sitting on my lap now spoke without any regard for my feelings.

That alone gave her a slightly mischievous, troubleso aura.

Like a stubborn little kid who just wouldn’t listen.

"I like yellow too!"

"I know."

"Gasp. How do you know?"

"Because I painted you?"

Even in this bizarre conversation, she simply giggled.

It was a nonsensical exchange.

"But my eyes are red. So is the sky!"

"How unfortunate for you."

"You’re an!"

Her glaring eyes weren’t scary at all.

Her small stature didn’t allow for much intimidation.

"Sanya."

While I was staring blankly at the crimson sky, Sara tapped my thigh and called .

"Yeah?"

"Why did you take so long to co?"

"I don’t think I was late."

This had happened before. Reacting wouldn’t change anything now.

"Hehe. I thought you’d forgotten !"

"Why would I?"

I smiled softly, but the years she had spent waiting for were written all over her face.

Was it resentnt? Or anger?

To be honest, it didn’t matter what she felt.

All I had to do was listen quietly.

I had no intention of making excuses. I just needed to absorb all the frustration she had built up.

"But! I’m so happy we’re eting again!"

"...Is that so."

What else could I say?

I just needed to let Sara have things her way.

Imagine being a child, alone in a world devoid of ti or anything else.

It would be one of the cruelest fates imaginable.

"Oh! I was supposed to et Seiren!"

"When?"

"Hmm. I don’t know!"

Judging from her tone, it seed like a promise made years ago.

Ti didn’t exist in this place, but she must’ve felt the years pass.

At this point, it was natural to forget.

She never had a good mory to begin with.

"Is there anything you want?"

Restoring [Seiren] and [Gumiho] had been my decisions.

I had altered their worlds to be as pleasant as possible.

But this place didn’t feel like it needed changing.

This was the world I created based on my mories of Sara.

There were no peculiarities to fix here.

"Nothing! I’m happy just playing with Sanya!"

"Still, think of sothing you want. I’ll draw it for you."

It didn’t feel right to leave her unchanged while the others were altered.

"Gasp. Sanya’s going to fill this world?!"

"Yeah, so just tell anything."

"Okay then!"

Sara jumped off my lap and ran over to an empty patch of desolate land, standing where no ruins remained.

"A park! Make a park!"

That wasn’t too difficult. I could probably work on sothing else afterward.

"And an umbrella, raincoat, and boots too!"

"Hey, hey. Even I can’t make sothing that detailed—"

"And change the sky too! Make it bright and blue!"

Like I said earlier, the Sara in front of and the one I rembered were entirely different.

They only shared appearances; their personalities were worlds apart.

"Lastly, dandelions. I want lots of dandelions in the park."

Her bright smile stirred sothing within .

"And make it right after the rain. I thought about it, and rain might feel cold."

I shouldn’t think of them as being alike.

This Sara was just playing a little ga of imitation.

...If you’re going to imitate her, at least get the expressions right.

The subtle upward curve of her lips made it clear to anyone that she was teasing .

Yet despite that...

"Anything else? Tell sothing you really want this ti."

I felt a bit better and decided to indulge her.

Her eyes widened at my question.

"...Then, Mister, can you draw yourself? That’ll be enough for ."

"That’s—"

I tried to answer but stopped.

Her trembling chest caught my attention.

Her voice, laced with tears, was barely audible.

I knew what she was doing.

"You don’t need to go that far with the act."

"Hehe. But Sara wants to do what she feels like."

The Sara she spoke of—was it herself, or the girl she used to be?

"Sigh. This will take so ti."

I’d never drawn myself before, let alone Sanya from my past life.

I didn’t want to immortalize mories I wished to forget.

But if Sara wanted it, I would do it.

"Thank you! Sanya, you’re the best!"

"That’s such an outdated phrase."

Where did she even pick that up? There’s no one else here.

"I’ll visit occasionally. I’ll mostly be outside, though."

"It’s fine. That’s enough for ."

I thought this reunion with Sara would end here.

We’d say goodbye, and that would be it.

"Mister, the dandelion you gave that day was really beautiful."

"...?"

"I’m sure Sara would’ve said that if she could!"

"Ha. What are you saying now?"

She was lucky she was cute.

I pulled sothing out of my pocket and handed it to the smiling girl with her arms outstretched.

On my way to the museum, I had seen so flowers along the roadside.

Since I was coming to see [Sara], I figured it’d be nice to bring a gift.

"I’m leaving now. See you next ti."

In the past, I left a flower beside Sara.

This ti, I tucked it behind her ear before walking away.

"......"

The girl with the yellow flower tucked behind her ear watched leave in a daze.

The mory of that bittersweet day flooded back to her vividly.

"Mister hasn’t changed one bit."

The girl muttered absently, touching the flower behind her ear.

The dandelion in her hand was strikingly similar to the one she had seen before she died.

Even if this Sara was just a replication, she carried the mories of the original Sara.

In a sense, she was living a second life.

Her personality might have changed, but the mories remained.

She didn’t know why this was the case.

But she was satisfied with the life she had inherited.

Except for one thing—Mister wasn’t with her.

"Acting is really hard."

In front of him, she always beca nothing more than a little girl.

She had tried her best to act cheerful, but it hadn’t gone as planned.

Her erratic breathing hadn’t cald down.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

"Dandelions. It’s been a while."

The single yellow dandelion in her hand, a common wildflower seen everywhere, was precious to her.

In her final monts, there had been no one by her side—not family, not even the nurses.

On that rainy night, her last wish had been to see a little yellow flower.

That wish, though small, had taken decades to fulfill.

Initially, she had tried to forget her past and live as a character within the painting.

But after he vanished, she realized there was no point.

"I hope he cos again tomorrow."

She had long known that Mister was already dead.

"Hoo."

"At this rate, I’ll pass on before you finish your work."

"You’re still young. These days, people live to be a hundred."

"I’ve never heard of such a trend."

I was grateful the chairman had waited for to finish.

But still, joking about dying because of seed a bit much.

"I feel like I’ve aged ten years."

"That’s on . Sorry about that."

Of course, he wasn’t exactly young to begin with. It wouldn’t do for him to get any older.

We’d grown close, and seeing him retire first would be unfair.

I just want to finish my work quickly.

Then I could rest and have so fun.

"So, how did it go?"

"If money doesn’t solve the problem, it just ans you didn’t use enough."

"That’s damn impressive, Chairman."

What kind of person invests so much just to watch soone draw?

There’s probably no one else like the chairman who spends so much on a hobby.

I couldn’t even imagine how much it had cost to get approval for this.

And this was property managed by the state.

The cost must’ve been in the billions at least.

They won’t ask to pay for this later, will they?

If that happens, I might have to beco a righteous thief.

It’s my painting, after all. Why should I pay to restore it?

Sigh. If only Master were here, everything would be resolved.

Master could’ve taken the paintings directly without going through the hassle of getting permission.

Since he was the one who discovered the masterpieces, his authority in this matter wouldn’t have been insignificant.

"When will you start working?"

"Right away, of course. I still need to check out [Cerberus] too, though..."

Honestly, I had a feeling stepping into that one wouldn’t let out easily.

What was [Cerberus] anyway?

When you think of hellhounds, you imagine a three-headed dog.

It might look terrifying, but it’s still part of the canine family, right?

So it’s incredibly loyal to humans.

Because of that, it uses its whole body to stop anyone from leaving its world.

It’s not exactly harmful, but it’s not harmless either.

I wouldn’t say it’s never hurt anyone.

Think of it as a wild stray dog.