Chapter 295: Strange Tutoring


    Led by a woman''s hand, Geon passed through the massive gates and caught sight of a garden that was beautiful yet somehow eerie. The bushes were trimmed into perfect triangles, and the sound of a violin could be heard, making Geon tilt his head curiously.


    “Is that a piece by Nolò Paganini?”


    Between the bushes, he saw the back of a tall man with long brown hair, dressed in a ck tuxedo, ying the violin. The man was ying Caprice No. 24, a piece that was lively yet mncholic. Geon tried to lean forward to see the man''s face, but the woman holding his hand pulled him back, preventing him from seeing.


    “It’s better not to see his face,” the woman whispered in Geon''s ear.


    Despite the excellent violin performance that piqued his curiosity, Geon moved to a spot where he could see the man''s profile. Just as the violinist''s side face came into view, a delicate white hand covered Geon''s eyes, gently turning his head away before being removed, revealing the face of a worried-looking woman in front of him.


    “I’m telling you this for your own good. Don''t look at his face.”


    Noticing the genuine concern on the woman''s face, Geon nodded. He wanted to look back at the man, driven by a nagging curiosity and thepelling violin performance, but he forcibly kept his eyes on the ground as he finally reached the entrance of the inner fortress. As the massive ck door of the inner fortress opened, about thirty women, either gardening or dressed as maids, turned to look at him.


    Seeing only beautiful women inside the fortress, Geon’s mouth fell open, and a blonde woman beside himughed and led him by the hand into arge reception room. The fortress was decorated mostly in ck, with asional sinister purple ents, and even the flowers in the vases were ck and purple. The portraits hanging on the walls also featured dark backgrounds, and it seemed that the house''s owner had a hobby of collecting various people’s portraits.


    The woman seated Geon on a sofa and closely examined his face, making him blush as he looked away.“Uh... you were mentioning Kiska just now?”


    Just as the woman was about to reply, there was amotion behind the sofa.


    “Natalie, where are you?”


    The woman hurriedly got up and bent over at the door as a white hand emerged from the darkness and touched her head.


    “Has the child arrived?”


    “Yes, Master.”


    “Good, you may go.”


    Natalie gave Geon a regretful look before disappearing into the darkness. Then, a man with long wavy brown hair, dressed in a purple tuxedo and ck cks, emerged from the darkness. He approached with a casual demeanor, cing his hands in his trouser pockets.


    “Ah, just sit down, it’s okay.”


    Geon, though startled by the man''s informal tone, felt it was oddly appropriate and sat back down. The man walked up to the firece, picked up a paper, and came back to the sofa, muttering, “Should have called you right from the start, saved myself the trouble.”


    Geon watched the man silently as he sat across from him and showed him the paper in his hand. It was the music sheet for Fury.


    “Uh... that''s myposition...”


    “Yes, I know your piece,” the man said after skimming through the music sheet, then frowned slightly.


    “It''s still rubbish.”


    Geon clenched his fists on hisp, feeling indignant, yet something about the man’s manner made him hold back any retort. The man nced at Geon''s clenched fists, smirked, and stood up.


    “Listen, this is a dream. You know that, right? You dream a lot?”


    Geon nodded quietly.


    “I’ve been dreaming a lot since I was a child. Are you a musician from some past era unknown to me?”


    The man chuckled.


    “Right, we speak the samenguage. Let me repeat: this is a dream. Got it?”


    “Yes, I understand,” Geon replied.


    The man came up behind Geon and put a hand on his shoulder.


    “I am not a musician, but I stand above all music.”


    Unable to turn and look at the man, Geon murmured, “Above all music?”


    The man tapped Geon’s shoulder a couple of times and then moved away.


    “My name is Amdusias. I’m here for some off-the-books lessons. Follow me.”


    As the man turned and walked away, Geon got up and followed. He couldn’t help but nce towards the garden through the window, where he thought he saw the face of the violinist.


    “Stop, you’ll regret seeing his face,” Amdusias called out without turning back.


    “Who is he that we shouldn’t see his face?” Geon asked, managing to restrain his turning head.


    “Nolò


    Paganini,” Amdusias replied briefly.


    Geon eximed in surprise, “Nolò Paganini? The legendary violinist?”


    Amdusias nodded and continued walking. Geon followed him, his expression nk as he listened to Amdusias muttering, “Yes, the violinist of the century by human standards. He sold his soul to me and now suffers eternally, his eyes gouged out, weeping blood as he cannot escape the torment of his ying.”


    Following Amdusias without stopping, Geon thought to himself, ‘Why is this dream so absurd? It’s nothing like my previous dreams.’


    They walked for a while until Amdusias opened a door to arge room without windows. As he stepped aside, Geon peered inside and saw walls covered with paintings. The bizarre aspect was not only that many of the paintings were masterpieces, but they were also mixed without any boundaries. The Mona Lisa seemed to be looking at Van Gogh’s self-portrait, and Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss appeared to be mocking Rembrandt’s The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, which was about to capsize.


    Geon paused at the threshold as Amdusias pushed him from behind into the room and then closed therge door. They stood in front of two canvases.


    “Sit,” Amdusias instructed, gesturing to a chair in front of a nk canvas.


    Hesitantly, Geon moved forward and sat down. Amdusias, sitting beside another canvas, pointed with a brush at one wall.


    “See that self-portrait of Van Gogh? Sorry, the guy painted a lot of them. It’s the one at 11 o’clock, right up against the ceiling. Found it?”


    “Yes, I see it,” Geon replied.


    “Try to paint it.”


    “I can’t paint, though.”


    “Just try. It’s alright.”


    Geon looked doubtfully at the palette filled with various colors. After about an hour of painstaking effort, he finished the painting, and Amdusias burst outughing.


    “Haha! Even if you received no talent for painting, this is just too much! Haha!”


    Embarrassed, Geon looked down. His canvas might have looked better even if Kiska had painted it; it resembled a monster more than anything else. Amdusias finally stoppedughing and said, “Haha, I haven’tughed like this in a long time. Now, let’s talk about the emotions you felt while painting this.”


    “Emotions?” Geon questioned, turning back to his own painting.


    “You see colors in paintings, right?” Amdusias asked, standing beside him.


    “How did you know that?” Geon asked, startled.


    “Haha, we’ll get to thatter. What emotions do you feel from your painting?”


    Looking at his ck-and-white painting, Geon shook his head, “I don’t feel anything.”


    “What about that one?” Amdusias pointed at the self-portrait on the wall.


    Geon followed his gaze to the portrait, which had multiple colors blended together, making it appear blurry.


    “It’s hard to tell. The colors are mixed up, making it blurry,” he replied.


    Amdusias nodded, smiling, “Still, you’re not entirely blind. You’re right. That painting has many emotions mixed into it.”


    “It seems like the colors are mixed, but each still shines on its own. It’s not that the colors blend into a new one; instead, each mixed color seems to emit its own light,” Geon observed.


    “Reminds you of something?” Amdusias grinned.


    “Sheet music. It’s like the notes on the sheet music for Fury,” Geon replied.


    “Good,” Amdusias smiled, walking forward to stand before the wall painting and crossing his arms as he looked up at Van Gogh’s self-portrait.


    “Van Gogh was known to have practiced portraiture on his own reflection due tock of funds. That’s why he has many self-portraits. Each one carries a different emotion depending on when and under what circumstances he painted it. This one could be from ‘after visiting his sister’s house’.”


    “After visiting his sister’s house?” Geon asked, puzzled.


    “Yes, he loved his sister,” Amdusias replied, leaning back against the wall andughing.


    >


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