**#204. Imitation and Creation (3)**
—
“To explain a bit academically, the artificial sun is composed of a mineral called *Terranote*, which emits light of a specific color when it absorbs mana. However, the light lasts for an extremely short time.”
According to Solite, many clergymen of the Order had tried to breathe light into the artificial sun in the past.
But none had been able to sustain the light for more than a few seconds.
“Humans are inherently limited in the amount of mana they can use, but I’ve heard that there are individuals born with certain qualities. It’s said they can sustain semi-permanent light with only a small amount of mana. According to an old revelation, they are found in the lowest of places.”
This, he explained, was the reason the Order mainly placed its branches in higher-numbered sectors.
Along with aiding the poor, searching for candidates who might become Saints—whether male or female—was one of the Order’s main activities.
“What exactly are these ‘certain qualities’?”
“There are many, but only one is core.”
Solite paused as if refining his wording before speaking.
“A heart capable of worrying for all things without condition. That is the most important quality.”
“Anyone can worry, though.”
“It’s not that simple. As you say, anyone *can* worry, but expanding that concern to everyone and everything around them is nearly impossible.”
“Then wouldn’t finding such a person be nearly impossible too?”
“I can’t give you details, but the Order has its own special methods. That’s why we haven’t given up hope.”
Summing up Solite’s words, it seemed that one’s perspective on the world was crucial to being qualified as a Saint.
Ray looked at Solite’s vessel.
Swirling red, orange, and yellow emotions.
“You seem to have the qualities of a Saint yourself.”
“Pardon…?”
Solite looked genuinely flustered by Ray’s comment.
“I’m not worthy. A Saint must truly worry for all living things, descend without hesitation to the lowest places, and comfort those who are hungry and trembling. Like warm sunlight that reaches every corner of the world.”
That sounds about right, though.
Solite stared deeply into Ray’s eyes.
Ray once again felt as if something within him was being read.
“You really believe that, don’t you? Ah! Ahh! I sincerely apologize. I keep doing something I shouldn’t…”
“Are you… reading thoughts or emotions through eye contact?”
“Huh…? H-how did you know?”
“I just had a feeling.”
“…You’re incredibly perceptive.”
Solite calmed his surprise and explained further.
“It may be hard to believe, but I can discern truth and falsehood through someone’s eyes. With focus, I can even outline what they’re thinking. That’s why I try to avoid prolonged eye contact whenever possible. It takes several seconds of eye contact, and I must also exert my will. But occasionally, the ability activates unconsciously…”
Ray tilted his head.
“Is it really necessary to go out of your way to suppress it?”
“It’s a matter of morality. Peeking into someone’s thoughts is no different from theft.”
To call thought-reading theft…
For a boy who had long benefited from guessing others’ thoughts through their emotions, it was a refreshing perspective.
“But it’s strange. I’ve never been caught before, and I’ve never shared this ability with anyone… yet I find myself telling you everything so openly, little teacher. It feels like talking to a very old friend.”
“……”
No matter how he looked at it, Ray felt this young man was a bit strange.
He shifted the topic and asked a new question.
“Why is the artificial sun made up of red, orange, and yellow? The white part in the center is barely visible. Sunlight is white.”
“Hmm, that’s a matter of perception. Depending on how you see it, sunlight can appear red, orange, or even yellow.”
“No, the sun is exactly white.”
“Your sun is white, then. I respect that.”
“It’s only white. That’s it.”
“My sun is orange.”
As the youth and boy lightly squabbled, a voice came from behind them.
“You’re having an interesting conversation.”
“Ah, Bishop.”
Turning around, they saw an elderly man dressed in priestly robes.
Thanks to his piercing gaze and upright posture, he didn’t seem old at all.
“When it comes to the color of sunlight, the young gentleman is correct. Its origin is white light, and all other colors are simply branches that extend from that.”
“Bishop, my apologies. I should have come immediately when you summoned me, but I was caught up in conversation…”
“No matter. The other High Priests won’t arrive for some time yet.”
Comforting the flustered Solite, the bishop turned to Ray and said,
“Young gentleman, your insight is remarkable. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This old man is Sardio, serving in a few roles here.”
The bishop offered his hand for a handshake.
From the moment the old man appeared, Ray had already raised his internal alert level to the maximum.
All four circles on the man’s chest were filled with deep navy mana.
*‘Azure Dawn Society’s mixed circles.’*
In a flash, countless thoughts flickered in Ray’s mind.
Could this man be the envoy from the Azure Dawn Society who was scheduled to visit the mansion?
How did someone from the Azure Dawn Society manage to become a bishop within the Order?
And if there are other mixed-circle bearers here, how many are there?
One thing was certain—based on the emotions in his vessel, this man saw Ray as just a normal kid.
The mana in his circles and jewel had been kept deactivated.
There was no need to reveal that he was a mage and draw unnecessary attention.
“I’m Ray.”
“That’s a fine name.”
In the brief moment their hands touched,
Ray saw the navy mana pass through the bishop’s palm into him.
The mana swiftly moved through various parts of Ray’s body but found no trace of magic and returned to its owner.
The handshake ended.
Solite began explaining Ray’s presence.
“This is a young teacher I met on the street. I was deeply moved by a drawing I saw and asked to visit the Grand Cathedral to talk more.”
“Oh? You were moved by someone else’s drawing?”
The bishop, looking skeptical, turned to Ray.
“If you don’t mind, may I take a look at the work?”
It wasn’t a big deal, so Ray handed over the sketchbook.
*Flap—*
“Ho… this is…”
“Isn’t the style quite unique?”
“Indeed. Is this a desert plain caught in a sandstorm?”
“It’s a street scene.”
“Then this must be a passerby.”
“No, it’s a car.”
That’s a fountain, though.
Ray thought to himself.
*‘I’ll erase them. Both of them.’*
The bishop, murmuring in admiration, closed the sketchbook.
“It was an impressive piece. The composition, use of lines, control of thickness—none of it was stable, yet I saw more potential in it than in anyone else’s work. I understand now why you wanted to speak further.”
“I had the exact same impression.”
“A good painting is always recognized. Young gentleman, thank you for drawing such a wonderful piece. I hope you keep this untainted imagination safe from the world.”
As Ray received the sketchbook back, he felt somewhat confused.
Could the Order’s doctrine be warping people’s artistic sensibilities?
This bishop didn’t seem normal either.
*‘Or… maybe I really *am* good at drawing?’*
Come to think of it, Veronica was only angry because the drawing didn’t resemble her face.
Grine hadn’t given a detailed critique of the drawing either.
In other words,
He might have completely misunderstood his own skill level.
After a brief moment of thought, Ray nodded and reached a conclusion.
*‘I’m talented at drawing.’*
Just then, Solite, having finished his talk with the bishop, spoke to him.
“The meeting won’t take long. I can guide you to the parlor where you can rest and wait. Or if you’d prefer, I can assign someone to escort you as you look around the cathedral.”
Ray replied with the arrogance befitting a master artist.
“No need for someone. I’ll walk around on my own. I want to view more artwork.”
“Understood.”
The bishop and High Priest disappeared down the corridor connected to the hall.
Watching their retreating backs for a moment, Ray turned to the artificial sun.
**[Do not enter under any circumstances.]**
A sign roped off the area.
Activating a concealment spell, Ray vanished from everyone’s awareness and slipped past the rope.
Up close, the artificial sun looked even more crudely made.
Would injecting mana into this rock mass really make it glow?
Ray reached out toward it but withdrew his hand, changing his mind.
If not for the bishop with the mixed circles, he might’ve tried—but knowing a prime enemy was nearby, he couldn’t risk it.
Instead, Ray exited the area and explored the cathedral.
He carefully observed the rows of religious paintings on the walls.
Watched someone playing the piano in one corner.
Entered the sanctuary and, in response to the preacher’s claim that God is a warm presence, countered by saying that God is a gloomy one.
Of course, since he remained cloaked by the concealment spell, someone else took the blame.
“Blasphemy!”
“Catch him!”
“You sacrilegious wretch!”
Leaving the commotion behind, Ray exited the sanctuary.
At least within the accessible areas, no one else possessed mixed circles.
*‘Judging from the letter’s contents, it doesn’t seem like the Azure Dawn Society is a large group…’*
In contrast, the Solar Order was powerful.
It was most reasonable to assume that some members of the Azure Dawn Society had infiltrated the upper ranks of the Order.
But to what end?
Ray reviewed the contents of the letter Binjin had received from the Azure Dawn Society.
> “…In the end, the most inferior person in the world shall become the most superior. Rising from the darkest and lowest horizon of the Azure dawn, they shall ascend to the brightest and highest place, and look down upon all the earth like the sun.”
…The sun is mentioned here, too.
He had a strong intuition this was no mere coincidence.
The Azure Dawn Society’s main goal was the resurrection of the mysterious *That One*.
Were they trying to use something within the Order to achieve it?
He didn’t know.
What he *did* know was that he mustn’t take his eyes off that bishop—and that he must prepare thoroughly for the Azure Dawn envoys who would soon visit the mansion.
—
*
*
*
As the days grew colder and the world gradually took on muted tones, Ray’s sketchbook, in contrast, began to overflow with colors.
“The thickness of the lines changes the feel of a drawing. The combination of colors is just as important. You must practice thoroughly. Imagination built on loose ground without a solid foundation will inevitably falter.”
From Griné, he learned various technical methods related to the fundamentals of drawing.
“Imagination already resides firmly within you, Ray. Let your hand move freely and let your imagination unfold without restraint. Don’t let theories or rules bind you. On the contrary, I believe getting caught up in methodology could risk dulling the colors of your world.”
From Solité, he learned how to amplify his current art style through imagination.
Scratch. Scratch.
At the Tower, at the mansion.
On the streets, in the wilderness.
The boy’s hands, moving pencil and brush, never once came to a stop, and stacks of sketchbooks filled with used pages piled up by the dozens each day.
The boy’s lines grew more refined by the day, yet the finished drawings never gave off that impression.
That was because they reflected the boy’s intuition in how he viewed the world.
Delicate yet uneven lines.
Coloring with blurred boundaries.
Smeared and distorted objects.
Each element came together to create an overwhelmingly dreamlike atmosphere.
Scratch. Scratch. Flutter—
He drew anything and everything in sight, but the subject the boy favored most was natural phenomena.
Rain, snow, clouds, wind, lightning.
The various phenomena born from the chemical reactions of mana were, in and of themselves, deeply captivating to the boy.
Their dynamic movement brought him immense satisfaction just by watching them.
Rumble—!!
Each time the color of mana reflected in his eyes was recreated with paint on paper—
Whirrrr.
The mana within gem and circles would swirl and separate like paint being mixed and pulled apart again.
As though they, too, were protesting that they could take on such forms.
And then—
“This is the first time I’ve seen artwork like this.”
“I expected something to this degree, but… I never imagined results like these in such a short span of time.”
Griné and Solité came to a realization.
Ray’s drawings were becoming something beyond what they could judge or define.
The surprise was even greater for Solité, who had only ever thought of Ray as an untainted boy from the lower classes.
Scratch. Scratch. Flutter—
Regardless of how those around him reacted, the boy continued his work relentlessly.
Scratch. Scratch. Flutter—
He built an accurate image of the world—
Scratch. Scratch. Flutter—
And repeatedly overlaid his imagination atop it.
Then, in mid-December.
On a day when snow was pouring down—
Three visitors arrived at the gates of the mansion.
A neatly dressed Ain opened the door and bowed deeply at the waist.
“Welcome. The master is waiting for you inside.”
