Chapter 49
After that, a few more questions were asked, but the investigation report was nothing but X marks. Unable to bear it any longer, Hassel finally spoke up in frustration.
“Don’t do it like that. Just show them the painting.”
“Showing it won’t change much… fine, I understand.”
At the museum director’s order, the secretary untied the string on the wrapping laid on the table and removed all the layers of paper. Soon, the painting with the blue background—the one we had seen earlier—was revealed.
When the secretary propped it up so the children could see, little Tiemo was the first to point at it.
“Huh? That’s the painting we had at home!”
The boy, too, was shocked and couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“Why is our dad’s keepsake…? Give it back! That’s our dad’s!”
Hassel calmed the children so they wouldn’t rush toward the painting. I noticed the museum director whispering to his secretary, telling him to be careful not to let the back be seen. Then he resumed questioning the children.
“Alright. First, you need to answer questions properly. Otherwise, you can’t claim ownership of that painting.”
“Why not? I’m telling you, it’s really the painting our dad left us!”
“There are many copies in the world. On the back of this frame, the title and other writings are recorded. So, what’s the title of this painting?”
“The title is…”
The boy hesitated, unable to answer right away. I heard a tongue-click of disapproval. The other children recognized the painting, but it was obvious they didn’t know the title either.
After thinking hard, the boy recalled something.
“Dad said it was a lake. That the painting was of a lake.”
“Well, Mustang territory has no rivers but plenty of lakes, so it makes sense. But did he say anything else?”
“……”
“He never told you what was special about this painting?”
“Ah, well…”
Their answer was wrong. It wasn’t a lake—it was a seashell. It seemed likely even the boy’s father didn’t really know much about it.
Macht looked at his younger siblings, silently asking for help. The girl suddenly remembered something and pointed at the painting.
“I heard the lake in that painting was near where we used to live. By the time we lived there, the lake had dried up and disappeared, though.”
“So, where exactly did you live?”
“In Suberdan village.”
“Suberdan village? That’s a name I’ve never heard of, and it isn’t written on the back either…”
I muttered that it would help to check a map. The secretary then said, “I happened to acquire a rare map of the Mustang Empire,” laid down the frame, and pulled a booklet from his bag. Flipping through it, he pointed at the area where the lake should have been. “It’s not here.”
I checked too, but the number of villages listed on the map was strikingly few.
“There must be a lot more villages not marked on this map.”
The secretary insisted the records were accurate.
“But the villages written on the back of the painting are clearly listed. I doubt Suberdan village ever existed.”
“Are you saying the children are lying now?”
The museum director sided with the secretary and backed up his claim.
“Why couldn’t they lie? People lie, but written records do not.”
“It’s not a lie! Our dad really said so!”
The boy’s voice, full of injustice, made me want to stand up for him, but there was no solid evidence. The more the children spoke, the more the director and secretary dismissed their words as lies.
I approached the upset boy, trying to calm him down and gently continue the conversation.
But the museum director declared the matter settled and had the painting repacked. Hassel also wanted to argue for more time, but the evidence so far was insufficient.
“We’ll take our leave.”
“No, let’s talk just a little longer!”
The director and secretary left the reception room first, with Hassel following behind. When they were gone, I went over to the children.
The girl felt guilty for not having said anything helpful. Pitying her, I patted her drooping shoulders and comforted her.
“It’s alright. If it’s really yours, there will be a way to get it back.”
“How? That painting was always hung high on a wall. We never once saw what was written on the back.”
“I know. I believe you didn’t lie…”
As I wondered what to ask next, I recalled the Reading Masterpieces book I’d read while helping Berin.
“Did your dad ever say what the painting meant to him? What meaning the ‘lake’ had?”
“Meaning?”
“Yes, meaning.”
The girl thought for a while, then slowly spoke.
“I don’t know the meaning… but sometimes, when he drank, he would say strange things.”
“What kind of things?”
“That if you go to that lake, there’s a blue seashell.”
“…What? He really said that? Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“I thought those men would think we’re weird. There’s no such thing as a blue seashell in the world.”
“No, that’s actually really important. Exactly how did he say it?”
“He said Grandpa told him to remember the blue seashell in the lake. But Dad always said it was all lies… He even told my brother and me that. So I thought if I said it, I’d be called a liar too.”
“W-wait!!”
I dashed out of the room and ran all the way to the exit. I saw the museum director and secretary climbing into their carriage. Out of breath, I kept running until I blocked their path.
“Hah… hah… Please wait!”
The director stuck his head out of the carriage with a scowl.
“What is it? We’ve already finished our verification. Step aside.”
“The children mentioned a blue seashell! They said their grandfather told them about it when passing the painting down!”
“…And what use is that now?”
“What?”
“They said nothing earlier, but suddenly mention it after we left? Did someone coach them?”
“No! Hyonir didn’t say it because he was afraid you’d call him a liar—”
“Testimony is only valid if spoken in everyone’s presence. Relayed words like this mean nothing.”
“I didn’t teach them! If I had, they would’ve been ready beforehand. They wouldn’t have sat silent, unable to even name the title!”
“Either way, I can’t accept it. Aide Hassel, please let us go. You’re interfering with our duties.”
Hassel’s eyes showed he believed me, but outwardly he had no choice but to escort me away. The carriage sped off, leaving dust behind, and I turned back to the children, who poured out their frustration to Hassel.
“Aide Hassel, it’s true.”
“I believe you. But right now, there’s nothing we can do. They came here to hear it ‘directly.’ Since you didn’t tell the director yourselves, your testimony is invalid.”
“Will we never get another chance?”
“I can’t say. For now…”
If the painting were returned to the children, their lives would change completely. It pained me to think such a huge opportunity might have just slipped away.
“…Hyonir really did mention the blue seashell.”
“Truth is not always passed on. A genuine work may be mistaken for a fake, and true words may be dismissed as lies.”
“Why does truth always get twisted? The weaker someone is, the more distorted it becomes.”
“His Highness has said something similar before. That it’s unfair how the works of poor artists are so often treated as counterfeits. That’s why he insists on carefully verifying such pieces—because if a work is recognized as genuine, it changes not only the artist’s life but also that of their descendants.”
“But this time, we couldn’t change the children’s lives.”
“Regrettably, no. Let’s go back inside. Say goodbye to the children and return. I still have other diplomatic reports to write.”
“…Alright.”
Weighed down by the reality that truth often fails to prevail, I walked back into the orphanage building with heavy steps.
On Sunday morning, I sat in the palace garden, pondering the next chapter of my novel. Since visiting the orphanage, I’d been strangely drained.
At my old workplace, I seldom met nobles, so their existence never weighed on me. Though I knew about social hierarchy, I hadn’t been very conscious of it. But now that I was living in the imperial palace, the class divisions were starkly clear.
Absentmindedly, I stared at the fountain before me, sinking into old thoughts.
In the past, whenever I saw a rainbow in the spray of water, I used to think this world, too, was divided into classes, yet harmonized like that rainbow.
But that was a hopelessly naïve illusion.
