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Chapter 121 Part 1 - The Mysterious Art Museum

Rossellini (3)

Lea, who has experienced entering a dream before, seems to already know that the world inside a dream is free, and she hurries over to sit next to Monet, who is seated in front of a pond, silently painting with sunglasses on.

Lea approaches him and stares intently at the painting, then turns towards me and waves her hand.

"Flowers! This grandpa is painting flowers right now."

I already knew what he was painting.

In his later years, Monet left behind about 250 paintings of water lilies. It's known that he spent his last years in this garden, without leaving his house, focusing on painting water lilies during this period.

'Water lilies.'

What would his water lilies look like?

In fact, I already knew. His paintings are important educational materials for art students, and I had seen them repeatedly since my childhood when I was studying art.

Just as I was about to wave back to Lea to acknowledge her, I hear Monet's voice, even though he's wearing sunglasses.


Startled by his voice, Lea, who was near him, screams.


Monet turns his head towards Lea.

"Marie, why are you so startled?"

Lea backs away and runs towards me.

"Ban! Did this grandpa just speak to me?"

I stand in front of Lea, who is hiding behind me, clutching the hem of my clothes.

'A dream where communication is possible.'

There are two types of dreams in this art museum.

One type is a dream that is invisible to others. The other is a dream where you can communicate with them.

This dream seems to be one where I have the opportunity to talk with him.

"It's okay, Lea. There are dreams like this."

Lea looks up at me, full of fear, and asks.


"Yes, I've had many dreams. Sometimes it's possible to have a conversation."

"I'm scared."

"It's okay, this grandpa is just an ordinary person."

As Monet, who was quietly listening to our conversation, puts down his brush and looks in our direction. It's not clear whether he can see us because of his sunglasses, but he's definitely looking our way.

"Who are you?"

I suddenly feel like an uninvited guest in someone else's garden. But I'm not worried. Monet's garden was a beautiful place where many people came and went without permission.

I speak calmly.

"Hello, sir. I'm an art student. I stopped by while passing nearby out of respect for you."

"Ah, I see. But I heard a child's voice just now."

"Yes, that's my younger sister."

"I see. I thought it was my granddaughter."

I gently nudge Lea, who is hiding behind my leg.

"Lea, say hello."

Lea, with a face full of wariness like when she first met me, takes a step forward and speaks with a trembling voice.

"Hello, I'm Lea."

"Oh, hello. How old are you?"

"Six years old."

"You must be cute."

I raise an eyebrow.

'He just said 'you must be cute', not 'you are cute'.'

In his later years, he almost lost his sight due to cataracts but regained it after surgery. Is it still before his surgery? Then why is he wearing sunglasses?

"I heard you're having trouble with your eyes. Are you okay?"

At this time, he was very famous. His reputation was such that you didn't need to live nearby to hear about him.

Monet adjusts his sunglasses and nods.

"Yes, I had surgery recently. I still can't see things far away clearly."

"That's good to hear, that the surgery has been developed."

"Heh, I'm not sure until I'm completely cured. I'm someone who doesn't trust doctors at all."

"You'll definitely get better. I know that treatment well."

"Are you a doctor? Ah, you said you were a painter."

"I'm embarrassed to call myself a painter. I'm just a student studying."

"Heh, what does it matter? Anyone who paints is a painter."

I approach him with Lea.

Since he said he couldn't see things far away, it's polite to show our faces up close.

Monet looks at us approaching, then seems a bit surprised.


"Yes, that's right."

"Heh, I've seen them in Paris before. But it's my first time seeing them in this area."

It's the same in every dream, Asians are considered exotic.

"Yes, everyone looks at me as if I'm strange. In fact, to my eyes, you all look more unusual."

"Haha, I suppose so. There should be a chair over there. Please, have a seat."

I see a wooden chair a little distance away.

Since there's only one chair, I seat Leah on my knee and examine the painting Monet is working on.

Leah, alternating her gaze between the painting and the pond, looks up at me with a puzzled expression and whispers.



"Red water lilies."

Leah, having seen the fiery red water lilies in Monet's painting. I quietly nod.

"That's right."

Leah looks again at the painting and the pond, then stands on my knee and whispers in my ear.

"There are no red water lilies in the pond."


I know.

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