On the way back from Atelier House, I reunited with an unexpected individual—old Wakui came to greet me when I came, but he wouldn't see me off (perhaps I'd ruined his mood with a difficult condition—in which case, from my point of view, the difficult one was the old man), so at the time I was alone.
"Ah, old-timer."
A voice called over to me. For a moment, I couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, but when I tried dropping my gaze, I found a young boy carrying a sketchbook under his arm.
"U-umm…?"
"It's me, you know, me. Hakui Riku—don't remember me? Well, we only met once anyways."
"N-no, I do remember."
As an episode, those events had left quite an impression—but sure enough, we only met once, and it wasn't as if I clearly remembered his face, so if we passed by one another, I probably wouldn't notice.
I was even surprised Hakui-kun remembered someone who was no more than a single security guard—did that part have something to do with the extraordinary memory power of one who paints pictures?
"What are you ding in these parts, in the middle of the day? Shouldn't you be at work?"
Hakui-kun brazenly asked. It was quite apparent he had yet to develop the tact to understand an adult not working in the middle of the day usually involved some circumstances that should never be asked about.
"Yeah, truth is, I left my job at the museum."
To be more precise, I was fired from the security company, but I thought explaining it all would just make it more convoluted, so I kept the details vague on that point.
"I failed a bit on the job. Right now, I'm in the middle of jobhunting. What about you, what's brought you here?"
I couldn't think there'd be any motifs for a painting in the middle of town, and if he kept walking, just about the only thing he'd run into was the high-rise complex—Atelier House.
"Nothing's brought me here. This is the way to my house."
"Hmm… wait, don't tell me!?"
I turned to Atelier House behind me—a great many painters' eggs, the housing complex receiving support from the renowned framer.
"Hakui-kun, you live there!?"
"Is it really that surprising…?"
Hakui-kun said suspiciously. There, it seemed he noticed, "Mn? What, old-timer, you know what sort of place this apartment complex is?" He asked another question.
"'n wait, there's nothing but Atelier House down the road you came from… jobhunting? Then don't tell me, old-timer, you had an interview with teacher?"
I cringed at the rapid succession of questions.
If I wanted to, they were all questions I could answer, but I had already been placed under confidentiality, and just because I was dealing with a child, I couldn't just readily reply.
If Hakui-kun said he was a resident of that complex, all the more so—or could it be as a resident he already knew the situation? In this instance, it was clear that teacher pointed to old Wakui after all—at the museum, he used the word teacher I thought ill-matched to a cheeky brat, but it looks like he didn't mean a painting teacher.
And late as it was, the number Wakui called from, that number that wasn't recorded in my address book, I finally understood why I thought I remembered it— it was the same as the contact information Hakui-kun wrote on my hand at the museum.
But to think even a boy his age lived there—once again, I affirmed Atelier House was no game. Though old Wakui did say it was half a hobby.
"Errr… I don't know how much I'm allowed to talk about."
"Ah, I get it, old-timer. Were you fired because of teacher? Got to say sorry for that—it was indirectly my fault."
The young boy said without particularly shying back—one could say that attitude was somewhat reminiscent of old Wakui.
"It's got to be because I snitched to teacher. The painting's frame was switched out, I said—but, well, if I noticed it, I couldn't really keep silent. After that, before he had even finished the job he was working on, I heard teacher stormed into the museum and caused a ruckus. I can't say I didn't wonder what happened to you… so anyways, did teacher introduce you to some work?"
While it was rough reasoning, he was largely on the mark. When he wasn't even a detective, what a sharp kid.
In this specific instance, rather than sharp, his frank manner of speech that came precisely because he was a child might have just made him sound sharper than an adult who would beat around the bush. My apologies to the word snitch, but if I had to deduce, it looks like the one who informed old Wakui of the frame change was Hakui-kun after all—thought it was a bit beyond my expectations that he had connections to Atelier House.
"Was Wakui-san the one who told you to copy that painting? He didn't say anything that made it sound like he could teach art."
Ahh, as a front, he's not supposed to do that sorta thing, but over here, I'm someone’s he's letting live there for free. No matter what he says, can't go against the patron's orders. This world ain't so simple, you know?
"I see…"
That was something I experienced all too recently—the world was detestably convoluted, and you never know what connects where.
"And for the artists living in Atelier House, having teacher furnish them with a frame is one of their goals—learning from a picture teacher actually framed before is like a compulsory subject."
Hakui-kun, said, flip, flip, flip, and showed me the contents of his sketchbook—the pages had increased from the time he showed me that day.
"Ah, then the paintings in that sketchbook are all…"
"Right. I guess I've pretty much finished copying all the ones open to the public… but, see, I can't spot a single point in common."
Haven't really learned anything, Hakui-kun sighed.
He was cheeky, he didn't go to school, and he was liable to look insincere, but his posture was earnest, and he seemed very serious—to think a person with talent who confronted that talent head-on could appear so radiant, without any particular reason, I fell into self-loathing.
And the fact that violent man was, at the very least, considerably respected by these painters (eggs?), it was pretty obvious if you thought about it, but I fully came to realize.
In that case, perhaps it was best I didn't say anything rash. That Wakui was thinking of retirement, and that he was about to embark on the last job of his life—no way, but didn't he say someone in Atelier House was painting it? At the very least, that tenant should know the situation—
Could it be that painter was Hakui-kun? My intuition led me along that tangent. The logic that he was just a child couldn't apply the moment he was allowed to live in Atelier House.
With all the talent he had, what's more, if he said old Wakui was treating him specially, then couldn't he have the qualifications to tag along on the man's final job—I thought, unconsciously staring hard at the boy.
He must have been well attuned to that look as sure enough, "It's probably not what you're thinking," came his bored-sounding words.
"Eh… w-what could you be talking about?"
"No, I mean what teacher wanted… the reason he called you after you'd been fired, I've got a hunch—including the reason you'd want to keep it hidden for me. But I'm not even a candidate for that one."
It was exceedingly difficult to maintain my poker face… of course, it wasn't as if Hakui-kun was saying he had seen through everything but at the very least, he knew the circumstances—apparently. But still…
"You're not a candidate for it…? What do you mean by that?"
While my guess Hakui-kun would accompany him seemed to have missed the mark, candidate was quite the peculiar word. Judging by old Wakui's tone, I got the feeling he'd already decided who'd be painting the picture…
"That all comes down to teacher's secretiveness. There was no way he could hide the fact he was going to get into a large job, so he had various residents get to painting paintings that fit the part—call it a secret project if ya want, but the walls have ears, so by putting out orders in bulk, he made it so even the one painting it doesn't know which one is the real one—that's how he set it up."
"W-well that's."
I heard something like that happens in the filming of mystery and suspense dramas. By filming the last scene along numerous routes and numerous patterns, they make it so even the performers didn't know which plot is the real one— by doing so, they're able to prevent the information ever actually being leaked before release, if I had to say a risk that came with the production process…
He put painters up to it? While he called them candidates, the ones who weren't the real McCoy were painting pointless pictures and—from the way he said secretiveness, you could also say it was already impossible to cover up.
To not even tell the one painting it, as a patron, he wasn't being frank to the people he supported, and when it came down to it, it became hard for me to think that old man was managing Atelier House out of honest goodwill or repayment.
What's more, that Hakui-kun wasn't even included among the fake candidates was a shock that made me shudder—just what terrifying level were those painters' eggs living in that complex at?
"Well… he's going a little too far, is what I humbly think. I admit, just 'cuz it's art, doesn't mean it's got nothing to do with competition. Having us all live in the same place, and cultivate ourselves to set out for number one is a good idea. A management policy I'd even call too respectable for teacher. But when it comes to his handling this time around, in the opposite sense, I think it's not like him—kukuku, though it's got no persuasive power coming from a kid who they wouldn't even let into that battle."
"If he's already at the stage where he hires an old-timer like you, teacher's finally going to start moving for real—if today was the interview, did you get the job?"
"Y—yeah."
I did, but when I heard it was such a terrifying place where man had to strive but to remain man, it brought a doubt to my choice. As if to boost that doubt even further, Hakui-kun spoke.
"You're better off giving up on it. You've seen teacher's intense nature, 'r how should I put it, strong character or something; a good-natured-looking old-timer like you looks like he'll get corrupted too easily."
"Corrupted…"
If that was where he was going, I was already corrupted.
Without any major experience, forget that, nothing but experience of failure, for me to personally take up the guard of a very important person on their very important job wasn't a sane state of affairs—corrupted by the sort of VIP who could hold clout against a single museum on his own, perhaps I had also come under the misunderstanding I would be able to accomplish something on my own. When I left Atelier House and looked back on it rationally, that's how I got to think of it.
At the end of the end, I succeeded in pulling the conditions out of the old man, but—apart from that, in the end, now that it was over, I was at the whims of that arrogant man.
I of course didn't reach him in talent or artistic prowess, but to strive for perfection, as a stepping stone there just in case, perhaps I wasn't too different from the young painters living in Atelier House.
"It's not just talent or dreams or futures… perhaps working is surprisingly not an ideal."
Old Wakui's culmination, what would become his final work; as I listened to Hakui, I realized it might not be the sort of thing I wanted to watch over and see off. At the point I thought of labor as an ideal, you could also say I was still considerably young…
"Haha. Because the ulterior motives of all sorts swirl around. From my sense, it's definitely not an ideal. It's dirty and stained. Makes me want to paint over it all in black."
"Whether you're working or not, old-timer, if you think that Atelier House is where youngsters dreaming of a future gather, some group of creators overflowing with a creative spirit, then you should at least know that's completely wrong. More than youngsters dreaming of a future, me included, this is where the monsters who live devouring dreams come together. Get it in your mind there's no telling what that lot will do, ‘kay?"
Well then, I'll be off, Wakui-kun said passing by my side—just as he said, he was returning to Atelier House. For argument's sake, he did try to stop me, but he didn't have a particularly strong opposition to my employment, it seems—I guess that part's how kids are these days, a dry sort of feeling.
I simply saw him off… in the first place, even if it was still an oral promise at present, as I had already exchanged a contract of employment with old Wakui, it was impossible to scrap it. At the risk of my own livelihood, it would be possible to overturn it, but when I thought of my mental state, in a battle of lawsuits against that rough-tempered old man, that alone made me fed up.
If I had just met Hakui-kun before Wakui, and heard what he had to say, perhaps it would have been different, but come so far, I couldn't take his advice—well, if I commuted here half a year, I would surely have another change to meet him as a resident, so when the time came, I'd ask a bit more in depth.
Thinking back on it later, that was quite an optimistic notion, and far too late, yet I had not the sense of an artist nor the reasoning of a detective. No, on the contrary—as a security guard, I couldn't even watch over the job of the old man who trusted me.
Without being shrewd, if I properly took Hakui-kun's warning there, perhaps a different future would lay in store. But such a future wouldn't come upon me.
The state of affairs developed rapidly—it developed, and fell.