"His painting is really awful."
Delicious Wind Goose answered without hesitation.
Before seeing Paper Princess in person, Delicious Wind Goose had thought that painter was truly incredible.
He could even taste a hint of magic from the portrait—just by admiring Paper Princess’s countenance and figure, Delicious Wind Goose could gaze intently at it for half the day.
Delicious Wind Goose believed that the newspaper’s editor must have thought the sa, which was why they placed that painting on the front page of the newspaper.
But it was only after seeing Paper Princess in person that Delicious Wind Goose knew the truth...
The resemblance of Paper Princess, if simply copied exactly as is, already qualified as a top-tier "enchanting painting." Even Delicious Wind Goose, with his Transcendent-level willpower, was utterly unable to resist it.
For so reason, the passersby around them seed to be completely oblivious to both himself and Paper Princess... They just walked by on the road as usual.
That so-called "famous painter," Nigel Elliott, had created a portrait of Paper Princess that was simply "just like a person."
It might sound strange to say this...
Although the likeness was about ninety percent similar, the ineffable beauty, the very essence of "beauty’s anchor," was not captured at all.
Not just Transcendents like Delicious Wind Goose, but ordinary people as well, would never be srized by this painting.
This couldn’t be described rely as ordinary "downscaling."
This was proper "dry goods"—the kind that could swell up several tis its size once water was added.
"In fact, he tried very hard."
Paper Princess simply chuckled gently, reaching behind herself to touch her canvas as she explained, "He’s not a Transcendent, and he saw my face by accident... By the ti he regained consciousness, I had already left.
"He tried to recreate the image based on the ’impression’ that lasted but a brief mont. I have seen his painting, and it’s actually quite good. His observational skills are also comndable... being able to extract and replicate the vague impression he had at a glance shows his talent is rather notable."
Paper Princess earnestly defended the painter.
Even though he was not here, and it was absolutely impossible for him to hear this conversation, Paper Princess held no harsh criticism for him...
Delicious Wind Goose suddenly had an inkling of sothing.
...That seed to be "love."
It probably wasn’t directed at that particular painter, but rather a love for all painters.
—Paper Princess cherished painters.
So, is that why she’s called Paper Princess...
For so reason, Delicious Wind Goose was reluctant to refer to this goddess as "It."
"Let’s not talk about that, take a look at your painting," she said.
Paper Princess pulled out a painting.
She smiled as she passed the painting to Delicious Wind Goose.
...What could be so special about it? I’ve seen enough of myself in the mirror...
Delicious Wind Goose mused to himself.
But he obediently took the painting and politely unrolled it.
However, as soon as he saw the painting clearly, he was suddenly stunned.
It indeed was his own visage. Delicious Wind Goose could recognize that at a glance.
But beyond that...
—it bore no resemblance at all.
His city guard uniform was depicted by Paper Princess as an old but clean red monk’s robe. His feet, bare and walking on snowy ground, were full of scars.
His eyebrows were tinged with white frost, his brows deeply furrowed, revealing endless distress and hesitation. His back was erect, his shoulders steady and broad, with faint scars and abrasions visible on his head; his expression was silent, his eyes determined.
His left arm hung down within his monk’s robe, his clenched fist betraying his inner turmoil and wavering. anwhile, his right hand cupped a handful of dark red blood before his mouth, yet he hesitated to drink it.
He gazed at the rippling blood in his hand, lost in mories and contemplation.
Behind him was an imnse, setting sun falling over the snowy landscape. The shadows fell on the side of his face, outlining the contour of his chin.
It might have been an illusion...
Looking at this "self," Delicious Wind Goose could even vaguely sense "what he was thinking." It was as if he were truly a monk in service to the Goddess of the Cup,
...What kind of divine selfie is this?
Delicious Wind Goose was deeply shaken.
His first response was to take a snapshot.
"...How much do I need to pay if I want to buy it?"
He asked sowhat tentatively, "Also... are my emotions really that intense?"
"My rule has always been to price on the spot. But you have only one chance,"
Paper Princess said gently, "I won’t tell the buyer how much each painting is worth—I’ll sell it to you only if your offer is higher than its real value. But if you bid too low, I won’t take your money... Instead, I’ll give you a gift for free, worth as much as the price you initially offered."
"As I said before, I’ll give you a fifty percent discount—you only have to offer half of its true value, and I’ll sell it to you. Now, this painting doesn’t have a na yet, but if you co up with one that I approve of, I’ll give you another fifty percent off."
"As for your emotions... of course, they’re not that exaggerated.
"This is a proper fiction, designed to better display the beauty that I’ve perceived. I’ve extracted, abstracted, and purified the conflict between feelings, desires, and will. The end result is this—it is the crystallization of your desires and will. If you ditate on this painting every day, your willpower can also be enhanced through the experience of this anguish."
Paper Princess revealed a stunningly beautiful smile, calmly saying, "The so-called painter is a profession that captures the ’beauty’ omnipresent in life and refines and materializes it.
"Works should possess their own life—that is what I believe."
"...You truly are an incredible painter."
Gourt Goose sincerely exclaid in admiration.
This was his first face-to-face conversation with a deity of this world.
The magnanimity and grace of Paper Princess deeply impressed him.
If he hadn’t been completely ignorant about painting, perhaps he would have already pledged his loyalty to Paper Princess...
Are the deities of this world all such charismatic beings?
Gourt Goose thought back to the Decay Lord and Silver Baron he had seen before.
There’s no need to say more about Silver Baron.
Even as an enemy, as a "monster," Gourt Goose, though overwheld by the Decay Lord’s aura and unable to look directly, still felt the elegance, composure, and amiability entwined around him.
"But I... I don’t have any money."
Gourt Goose said helplessly, "Can I buy it on credit? Or exchange it for sothing of equivalent value?"
"Absolutely no credit, but I do accept bartering—as long as it’s done under the witness of Silver Baron, I will fairly take it back at its rightful value," Paper Princess said with a smile, urging him, "First, give it a na."
"...I can’t think of a good na."
Gourt Goose was silent for a long ti but answered honestly, "This is all I can offer—" He patted his belt as he spoke.
There, he stored ten lighter-sized tal vials.
"Ten vials of demon blood..." Paper Princess seed to see through Gourt Goose’s thoughts, frowning slightly.
After a mont of thought, she asked again, "Why don’t you try to co up with a na first?"
The mont she spoke, Gourt Goose had an idea.
The value of ten vials of demon blood should be more than two and a half tis the value of the painting, but less than half—although he didn’t know how it was calculated.
The cost price of demon blood was less than ten pounds, but it could sell for eighty pounds a vial in the Royal Capital; and these ten vials were given to Gourt Goose as a deduction from a salary of three hundred pounds...
But either way, offering a higher price was a good thing.
If he couldn’t afford it, he would get sothing of equivalent value as a gift.
Rationally speaking, compared to a painting whose use he was unaware of, it would be a more sensible and stable choice to exchange it for a gift.
But Gourt Goose still wanted to try...
"... ’The Monk in Front of the Cliff,’ would that be alright?" He furrowed his brows, looking at the painting, and asked tentatively after a long contemplation.
Paper Princess tilted her head, pondering for a while.
"If the na were given by soone else, I wouldn’t sell it," she said, squinting her eyes, and with a cute smile that suddenly reminded Gourt Goose of Annan, she whispered, "But since you yourself have said it... The na itself represents another layer of contradiction. From that perspective, its value has been elevated by enhancing the value of the painting itself.
"In terms of equivalent exchange... I’ll take the gifts you’re offering without reservation."
Paper Princess said this and reached out to touch Gourt Goose’s belt.
The next mont, Gourt Goose felt the vials inside his belt disappear all at once.
"I’m off, young man... till we et again, if fate allows." As Paper Princess’s voice faded,
Her figure vanished like a phantom dream.
The mont Gourt Goose’s gaze left Paper Princess, he noticed that his ntal image of her appearance began to fade rapidly... until not a trace remained in the blink of an eye.
...Perhaps this was his brain’s way of "decompressing" to protect itself.
Gourt Goose silently, carefully rolled up the painting.
The passersby around also cast curious glances at Gourt Goose, clad in the city guard’s uniform and holding the painting roll.
—Forget patrolling for now.
In any case, he had to find the Monster Teacher and get their help to hide the painting...
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