***
A few days later, we prepared to board the artists’ cruise.
Since I’m not an artist myself, I figured I should at least look the part, so I went all out with my appearance.
“What the heck is that skull-print dress?”
Raffaelo blurted out in shock.
“Why are you wearing black lace gloves?”
Arkhangelo narrowed his eyes.
“…Your makeup is unusually bold today,”
Ghieuspe muttered.
“You look beautiful, Sera.”
“This… wasn’t supposed to be a ‘beautiful’ concept, though…”
“But you are beautiful,”
Simone’s comment made me feel a little shy.
Anyway, I checked myself in the mirror and felt quite satisfied. Hmm, I did a good job making myself look like an eccentric artist. Today’s highlight? Definitely the overdone blush.
We presented our tickets and boarded the cruise ship docked at the Rune River terminal. While it wasn’t an enormous vessel, it seemed perfect for fostering closer connections among a small group.
“Do you really think Aurora is here? Honestly, it feels like Arkhangelo just wanted an excuse to go on a cruise,”
“Hmph. I’m certain that lunatic Aurora is on this ship,”
Arkhangelo responded, completely unfazed.
“She can’t resist anything related to the arts, so she must have found a way to sneak aboard.”
“But how would she manage to get here with her singing skills? Do you really think that counts as ‘art,’ Arkhangelo?”
“Well… it’s probably closer to witchcraft than art,”
Honestly, he had a point. I gave him a hard time, but deep down, I was just as excited. A cruise party—this was exactly the kind of thing I’d dreamed of since arriving in this romantic fantasy world!
The moment we stepped on board, I was greeted by a dazzling display of champagne towers, elegant floral arrangements, delicious party food, and a live orchestra playing in the background.
It was just like the cruise parties I had always imagined.
In another section, there was a space set up with paints, brushes, easels, canvases, and musical instruments for the artists.
“Wow, this is exactly what I was hoping for,”
I said, forgetting all about teasing Arkhangelo.
As I giggled to myself, Simone’s gentle voice reached my ears.
“Is this your first time at a cruise party?”
“Yes, in every sense,”
I replied, thinking back.
It was a first both in ‘Sera’s’ memory and in ‘Seraphina’s’ memory.
“Still, I’m glad my first cruise party is with people I like. Who you share your first experiences with is important, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so… This is my first cruise party, too—”
“Simone, didn’t you once attend a cruise with the senators…?”
“A boardroom meeting and a cruise party are completely different things.”
Though Simone was smiling, his expression didn’t seem amused as he glanced at Raffaelo, who simply chuckled to himself.
“But… what’s that automaton over there?”
I asked, pointing to something that had been bothering me for a while.
Until recently, automata hadn’t been commercialized in Cassan, yet here, in the middle of the cruise, a mechanical waiter was serving champagne.
“Seems like the distribution of Allan’s automata is moving faster than expected.”
“It’s unsettling to see them here as well.”
I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling and shifted my gaze away from the automaton. I decided to focus on the beautiful sights around me instead.
The ship finally set sail, and each of us held a glass of champagne while admiring the scenery. Just as the light buzz of the alcohol was starting to lift my mood, someone approached us.
“Oh, Lord Phyro!”
“Mr. Mohe?”
The man was none other than Crodan Mohe, a painter we had previously met in Crman. He was famous for his lotus flower paintings, and it seemed he had also received an invitation to this artists’ cruise.
“You all must really love the arts to be here!”
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Mohe, but it’s a pleasure to meet you again,”
Simone greeted him gracefully.
Mohe chuckled heartily.
“I was invited, of course. As an artist, how could I possibly miss such an event?”
“As expected.”
“By the way, what kind of art do you all practice…?”
That question froze us in place.
Why? Because we hadn’t actually decided on what kind of ‘artists’ we were supposed to be!
We had impulsively boarded the cruise, hoping to figure things out as we went.
“Well, Lord Phyro’s reputation as a vocalist is already widely known, but the rest of you…?”
Damn it. What now? What kind of art could I even claim to do?
The original Seraphina could play the piano, so technically, I could as well—but my skills were nowhere near impressive enough to stand out here.
What kind of art would capture the attention of these sophisticated artists?
Maybe I could pull a gimmick and perform pansori, a traditional Eastern-style narrative singing? Given how these people were obsessed with Orientalism, it might actually work.
But, of course, I didn’t know the first thing about pansori. And frankly, the idea of catering to their Orientalist fantasies made me cringe.
Ugh. I’d rather cook up a Korean dish and dramatically declare, ‘Ah, behold—this is Korean cuisine!’ That would be less humiliating.
Sweating nervously, I whispered to Simone beside me.
“Have you ever done any kind of art? Like… piano, maybe?”
I asked because his long, elegant fingers seemed perfect for playing the piano. He smiled softly and replied,
“I’ve never learned such refined hobbies that don’t aid in survival.”
“…Ah.”
Ghieuspe stood quietly with his usual stoic expression, while Raffaelo, wide-eyed, looked like a student who had just been asked to volunteer for a class project. Neither of them seemed the artistic type. Damn it—what do we do now?
“Could it be… you’re not actually artists?”
The moment Mohe uttered those words, my survival instincts kicked in, and my tongue started moving on its own.
“What, after all, defines art?”
“Pardon? Are you trying to change the subject—”
“The traditional definition of art is grounded in norms established by Western men. This raises several problems. First, applying the Western concept of art to non-Western cultures is cultural imperialism. From a position of power, we interpret and define the art of others. What is considered art is dictated by Western standards. For instance, some cultures view crafts as art, but the West fails to recognize them as such. Furthermore, our perception of art in small-scale societies is inconsistent. In some cultures, art is intertwined with ritualistic purposes—”
“Ah, um, right… I see.”
Mohe, looking utterly overwhelmed, quickly excused himself and fled. As soon as I closed my mouth, my companions swarmed around me, full of admiration.
“Seraphina, your speech was incredible! You truly are like my beloved, beloved sister!”
“That was impressive.”
“When did you learn to talk like that?”
“Ha! I knew you had it under control!”
“Wait, Raffaelo—where did you even pick up that way of talking?”
“Obviously, from you.”
“…Let’s just focus on finding Aurora.”
For some reason, I felt embarrassed and hastily changed the subject.
“Aurora… If we catch her, we can get our money back and also hear about that dimensional traveler….”
Burning with resentment, I muttered to myself while scanning the deck.
Besides the space set up for painting, there was also an exhibition area where paintings were displayed. Artists stood before various pieces, conversing with delighted expressions.
“Everyone looks like they’re having fun.”
Meanwhile, we were too preoccupied chasing Aurora to enjoy ourselves.
“Sera, there are cabins inside the ship. Aurora might be in one of them.”
“Oh, really? Then let’s head inside and—”
Just as we were about to move—
“Oh! Who does this incredible painting belong to?”
From the center of the deck, Mohe suddenly lifted something up and shouted.
“This is truly a beautiful painting! But I’m curious—who is the artist?”
In Mohe’s hands was a painting of a serene blue lake, executed with techniques reminiscent of the Impressionist painters.
His overly exaggerated tone instantly drew everyone’s attention.
“You’re right, I’ve never seen that painting before.”
“I boarded this cruise hoping to discover new artists, and it looks like I’ve found one!”
Excitement mounted as people’s chatter grew louder.
“Looking at the brushstrokes, it seems to be heavily influenced by Mohe. The artist must admire him.”
“Yes, and I can also see hints of Manet and Renoir in the style.”
“It looks like they studied various Impressionist painters and created their own unique style.”
“Who painted this?”
Just as the atmosphere reached its peak, someone stepped forward to claim ownership of the painting.
However, the moment they spoke, everyone froze.
Because…
“I painted this.”
The one who said those words was none other than the waiter automaton.
