Am I really hallucinating?

Chapter 393 "Insect"

There were significantly more people in front of the landmark building compared to the previous few days.

People weren't really in the mood to travel lately, but once the topic came up, it suddenly sparked a lot of people's interest in visiting.

Most of them are still from the white-area urban area; people from the gray-area neighborhoods aren't that free yet.

Jeremiah and Doris had secretly completed their street transaction and were still somewhat dazed. They sat down by a flower bed, took a breath, and began to read the sheet music.

Should I just give up what my sister left behind because of my own reasons?
There's absolutely no need to hesitate about this kind of question.

If possible, he would prefer to find a reliable musical psychic to help him. But currently, he doesn't know of any other capable people besides Doris.

The main problem is that he doesn't have that many connections in the industry, and it's difficult to judge things like supernatural inspiration.

It's not that people without extraordinary inspiration can't produce works that reach that level.

Super inspiration is something beyond the ordinary, but many masters in various fields are not super-inspired, but rather rely on their accumulated experience and talent to produce works that are no less than those of super-inspired individuals.

Extrasensory perception is unstable, and relying solely on inspiration can easily lead to dead ends. Even those with extraordinary inspiration are not without limitations.

Now that he had already promised Doris, there was no room for him to go back and refuse. He needed to think carefully about how to perfect the unfinished project his sister had left behind…

Rustling——

The pen tip makes a sound as it rubs against the paper, or like insects crawling quickly across it.

Jeremiah looked in the direction of the sound and saw a man wearing a beret setting up an easel and sketching with a pencil in his hand.

The man appeared to be middle-aged, with a thick beard and wrinkles on his face.

Do people still come here to sketch and paint?

"Someone told me that if you see someone in Saintwood Town who is completely covered up, they are either a big star or a detective from an agency who wants to investigate something," the person said while drawing.

Jerome was taken aback and subconsciously adjusted his mask.

"The former is more common, which means there are more people nowadays. Otherwise, Mr. Jermelo, you would easily be recognized by your own enthusiastic fans."

was recognized.

"And who are you?" Jermelo didn't seem too bothered by his identity being revealed, and instead asked in return.

“I’m not your fan, but some things are easy to figure out. As long as I find out the schedules of the musicians who might be performing recently, analyze who is currently in Saint Wood Town, and then filter them by physique and other details, comparing them one by one with you, it won’t be hard to know who will be next to me,” the painter man said with a smile.

Jermelo: "You're really good. That's not easy."

"I am indeed very smart, and I'm not bragging, but my academic performance has always been excellent from elementary school to high school. I even graduated from the art department of the University of San Zio."

Jermel looked at him with some surprise: "Sanzio University? That's impressive. My university is just average."

Although the art department at the University of Sanzio does not focus on the supernatural, it is still quite outstanding, and even has its own Raphael Prize, which is very prestigious in the university.

"No, I'm not that great now." The man shook his head, denying it with a sarcastic smile.

Isn't that impressive? Graduating from the art department of the University of Sanzio, it would be easy to make a name for yourself in art-related industries.

Even if someone is just taking on freelance work, the price for commissioned articles won't be simple.

"Because my dream is to become a great cartoonist," the man said.

"This……"

The man continued to speak eloquently: "Long-run serials, like those well-known works under Kuku Comics, will always have people commemorating the characters and marveling at my ingenuity, no matter how many years have passed. Occasionally, I will stop updating because of my own willfulness, causing countless readers to wail and call me an 'old thief.' My dream is to make the characters I create famous all over the world and become one of the top comic artists."

“Yes, that’s a very impressive dream.” Jeremiah nodded.

Because he also wants to become a top-notch singer. Right now, he's quite close to his dream, but this is mainly due to his sister's sacrifices, so he doesn't feel a great sense of accomplishment.

The question of whether he still held onto this dream caused Jerome some agonizing uncertainty.

"So how's your comic going?"

“A novella was abruptly canceled, and while the response to a few short films was decent, it was still lukewarm. Although I’ve earned enough money, it’s still too far from my dream. And I’m already forty-nine years old, almost fifty.” The man said, letting out a heavy sigh and putting down his pencil. “There’s probably no hope left.”

"Mr. Jerome, what about you? You must have already achieved your dream. A top superstar, one of the best singers right now, it's truly enviable to have achieved so much at such a young age. I'm sure you can maintain your peak for a long time to come."

"Don't joke around, you're still far from it." Jemelo lowered his head, his sister's face flashing through his mind. "You're still a long way off. Maintaining your peak isn't easy..."

"I see. That really surprises me. I thought that someone who has become one of the best in their field would be full of pride and confidence, but I didn't expect you to show the same dejected expression as me, as if your dreams have gradually lost their value. You look like a stray dog."

That wasn't a very pleasant way to put it, even though Jeremiah felt he was right.

Jeremiah looked at him: "What exactly do you want to say to me? You came here specifically to see me, didn't you?"

If you haven't realized by this point in the conversation that the other person came specifically to see you, then you'd be really foolish.

"What I want to say is that dreams are like sugar-coated bullets, very dangerous." The man twirled the pencil in his hand, revealing a playful smile. "If we compare dreams to insects, and realizing a dream is like becoming a butterfly, then most dreams die before they even reach the stage of pupation."

"In the eyes of others, such a dream is nothing more than a worthless insect, something that even the owner himself would laugh off." The painter picked up his pencil and continued drawing, saying as he drew, "Then some people cross the threshold, which is the process of pupation. It takes a very, very long time for the pupa to emerge as a butterfly. But more likely, the pupa will suddenly stop moving one day."

Jeremiah stared intently at him.

"The pupa died. It died in the most difficult part. Only after crossing the threshold will it realize how cruel it is. Some pupae can even watch other pupae around them successfully transform into butterflies and fly into the sky with their beautiful wings before they die."

"That kind of beauty can only be admired from afar."

The painter chuckled and shook his head, but his pencil moved even faster.

"If the insect called dream fails to become a butterfly, it will continue to devour its master's life, until finally, even the dreamer himself."

Jeremiah stood up, took a pistol from his clothes, and pointed it at the painter in front of him.

The painter, however, maintained his smile, his hand holding the brush becoming a blur as he rapidly sketched the painting.

“Insect Eater…it’s you!” Jermel realized.

“I am an insect, and many people are insects, including you. You are the insect that most resembles a butterfly, and the cocoon that encloses you is your sister.”

"You bastard!" Jermelo pulled the trigger repeatedly, but no bullets were fired.

This is Saintwood Town, a white world.

Wasn't it supposed to be a hallucination? How could it enter the white world?!

The painter finally finished the painting and looked at him with a smile: "Although it's not the highest stage I wanted, I'll lend it to you for your performance."

After saying that, he got up, took a few comical steps, and turned to run away.

"stop!"

Jerome caught up with him. Although he was a middle-aged man of forty-nine, he was agile. As a top singer who could perform for several hours, Jerome was naturally not weak either, but the other was still better.

After leaving Saintwood Town and entering the Nolan Street area, the opponent, no longer restricted, vanished from Jermelo's sight in a flash.

Jermelo looked around but couldn't find the other person, so he went back to the other person's painting.

A pencil sketch depicting a pupa hanging on a plant.

(End of this chapter)