Chapter 127 - Warming Up (2/2)

'I don't even feel this way about my works,' Keegan sighed in shame. Even though he was a 6-star Artist, he never had the same level of enthusiasm the boy displayed for a split second before running off.

From his side, Keegan suddenly heard a tongue click, ”How disrespectful! Who does the boy think he is, keeping Artist Lang waiting like this?”

It was Myron, who was trying to add oil to the nearly extinguished flame. Keegan wasn't oblivious to Myron's attempts at antagonising him against the boy. It was just that earlier, Keegan had a legitimate reason to go along. But now, it just seemed so trivial. Besides, after suppressing his senseless rage, he realised that Goran wasn't someone who would put Kano in such a controversial position. He was methodically taking Kano through the different artworks and encouraging the boy to exercise his knowledge. What benefit would moving the kid's unpolished painting to such a public stage offer in his development, unless it was some sort of a sick exercise in building humility? Not like the kid even needed it; he was already so unbearably soft-spoken, not an ounce of youthful hot-headedness lay within his bones. Keegan tried to reprimand the boy once for a small error, only to receive an immediate and heartfelt apology - it was like punching cotton! This ultimately meant that someone else was involved in slighting Keegan. After some trite mental calculation, he figured out that the 'someone' responsible was standing right next to him and egging him on.

Just as Keegan was about to speak and reprimand Myron, Kano toddled back with an excited expression and urged Goran to take him to the next painting.

Since they were approaching his work, Keegan subconsciously became more receptive to his audience's opinions and expressions. He was especially interested in what the kid had to say. Evidently, the boy had made some breakthrough in unearthing his artistic philosophy, and Keegan was looking forward to hearing what it was.

Keegan held little connection to his work. Sure it was a level five masterpiece, but it wasn't anything special to him. The observers didn't share this opinion - to them the work was transformative and extremely valuable. Because of his usual indifference, his works never had a name, just a numeric designation. The one on display right now was ”Number 23”.

The scene was of a lone farmer toiling in a lavish field of gold and green. As Kano looked at the sole individual, the man turned his head and looked out. He took out a towel stuffed into the back of his pants and brought it over to his face to dab away the overflowing sweat. He had a shovel in his hands, that he planted directly into the soil, letting it stand vertically. He folded his hands, rested them over the vertical wooden handle and waved out towards Kano. With each passing second, Kano could feel the world around him change, from the modestly cool exhibition hall to a welcoming and encouraging warmth beating down from the Sun. The still air started to course in a pleasant breeze, carrying an aroma of freshly cut grass that immediately assaulted Kano's nose. The sound of metal colliding against the soil reverberated in the background, suppressed by the calm whooshing of the swaying wheat stalks.

The next wave brought with it a rush of emotions. The fulfilment that followed a battery of hard work, the joy from receiving the payment from a hard day's work, and the tranquillity that was offered by a filling meal with the entire family.

The farmer in the distance approached Kano and offered him a stalk of wheat. Kano didn't know what it meant and stared at the man with a vacant gaze. In response, the man simply placed the stalk in his mouth and started chewing on it. He handed Kano another one before laying down on the ground and staring into the clear blue sky.

Most others, uninitiated to the rapture of a painting at the pinnacle of contemporary art, would've been completely enraptured by this experience - lost within the painting's microcosm. But surprisingly, Kano wasn't. He was pulled into this little world at a spiritual level, but not once did he mistake it for reality. There were signs, subtle indications that the world around him was a result of a myriad of brushstrokes and artificial colours. The sky's blue-ness was slightly lacking, the grass' green-ness was a little washed, the wheat's gold-ness was a tad flat. Every single colour in this world was close, but a fraction of a step short. It didn't detract from the appeal of this veritable masterpiece of a painting - one that stood at the top of the contemporary styles.

All this while, Keegan was doggedly observing the transition of expressions on Kano's face. It started with a contemplative frown, which slowly loosened to unrestrained awe, finally warping at an exponential rate towards an assured resoluteness.

”Did you make a connection?” Goran asked.

Kano nodded enthusiastically and said, ”I see it! I've figured out a connection with my philosophy!”

Keegan's curiosity overtook his self-control urging him to inquire, ”Can you explain it to me?”

Right as Kano prepared to answer, a series of hasty conversations broke through the respectful silence.

”Quickly now! It's at the centre of the quad!”

”I never thought that something so exciting like an Artists' Duel would take place today of all days!”

The occupants within the hall were absorbed by the hubbub and, like sheep, followed the crowd exiting hurriedly.

Myron stopped the nearest individual and demanded clarification, ”What's going on? Where is everyone running off to?”

”It's an Artists' Duel. Artist Norris challenged Teacher Way to it. It's taking place in the quad!” The man answered before receding with a brisk jog.

”Who's Teacher Way?” Myron muttered.

Goran recollected only one Teacher Way, ”It's Jo Way.”

”””Who?””” Kano, Keegan, and Myron blurted out in unison.