Am I really hallucinating?

Chapter 626 The Chaotic Studio
“This is Emily, the painter who lives on the second floor just like me.” Chacilu’s attitude visibly improved, completely different from how he treated Zhang Ren before.

However, Zhang Ren is a sharp-tongued, mean-spirited, and nitpicky old man, while this is a cute little girl who hides herself well. They treat each other the same.

Zheng Fan said directly, "Miss Emily, please come in and have a look."

"Huh?" Emily was stunned.

Chasilu asked, puzzled, "Why did you invite Emily to come along?"

“Claim her paint,” Zheng Fan said casually.

The entire room fell silent.

Emily quickly said, "W-what are you saying?"

“You’re deaf too? I told you I came in to check your paints. It doesn’t matter if you don’t acknowledge it; you’re the least guilty one here anyway. Mr. Chaxilu, you decide for yourself,” Zheng Fan added.

Chasilu glanced at Zheng Fan, then at Emily, and said with some difficulty, "You mean to say that the paint that mysteriously appeared on those sculptures in my studio was done by Emily?!"

“Not entirely,” Zheng Fan said calmly.

“How could that be? Emily, we don’t have any grudges against each other! We’ve lived here for many years…” Chasilu couldn’t understand.

“I…” Emily took a step back, her eyes filled with helplessness. She hadn’t expected that her actions would be so easily exposed.

"By the way, where did you get the key?" Chasilu suddenly realized.

Before Emily could speak, she heard Zheng Fan slowly say from inside the room, "It was given by the landlord's child. After all, she seems like a very gentle and easy-going young lady. It's so easy for her to fool a child. According to your description, your friend's child is not a well-behaved person either. He often sneaks into your studio, right?"

"I just……"

"Emily, explain yourself!" Chasilu grabbed Emily's wrist, his eyes wide with anger.

“It’s all because of you…” Emily didn’t give up on herself after being caught. Or rather, her childish act of painting on someone else’s sculpture showed that she wasn’t really that ruthless—although such a thing was indeed excessive for a proper sculptor.

“You’re so amazing, yet you pretend to be all sympathetic and share my misfortune!” Emily said, raising her voice slightly.

"Huh?" Chaxilu was dumbfounded. "Me? What's so great about me?"

“You’re a fool who’s still making sculptures like this in this day and age. You could easily find plenty of wealthy men willing to work for you if you just compromise a little and do something decent. But you’re unwilling to do that and you keep complaining to me about how you’re not appreciated! Even if you left sculpture, your horrific creativity would still be highly appreciated in the industry! You’ve always relied on your talent to make a living, yet you keep telling me you have no talent. It’s like you’re mocking me!” Emily poured out all her long-held thoughts in one breath.

Chaxilu was even more stunned.

Mo Mang clicked his tongue slightly.

He gets annoyed by these kinds of situations. Jealousy is everywhere; for example, he is often envied by people who are usually slow and inefficient at work because of his high work efficiency, and is even ridiculed as a scab.

If this is the case for a regular job, imagine how difficult it is for artistic creation, a field that heavily relies on talent.

“I just… you should have told me earlier if you weren’t feeling well…” Chasilu was a little exasperated for a moment, although he didn’t think it was his fault, because he didn’t want to simply create horror designs, nor did he want to make ordinary sculptures that followed the crowd. In fact, he never thought his inspiration was “horror,” it was just that the way it was expressed was rather bizarre.

Of course, saying these things will probably only hurt others more.

“Your use of color alone makes me envious, even though you’re not an artist… I can’t even imagine how big the gap is between us…” Emily lowered her head heavily, looking as if she was about to cry.

"Awoo~" Suddenly, a melodious toasting sound came from inside the room, drawing everyone's attention away from a woman's incessant chatter.

Toast, carrying carving tools in his mouth, strode confidently before Zheng Fan, eager to claim credit.

Zheng Fan looked at what it was showing him—a statue of Zheng Fan. He saw a lifelike sculpture of himself appear there, sitting cross-legged, supported by a twisted, low tree that was growing on a piece of toast!
Amazing!

"Awoo!" Toast was talking to Zheng Fan about his ideas. This was just a practice draft. He just needed to find an open space and build a cathedral. The statue of such a deity would have to be enshrined there in a super huge way.

At that time, creatures like the "Blanket Spirit" and "Land Shoes" can also come and ask for a spot.

As for the evil binary girl and the like... a side hall or something is about right.

"You actually went out of your way to leave a side hall for it, not bad." Zheng Fan squatted down and rubbed Toast's head as a reward. He always felt that if Toast did this, he might actually be able to create a religious form for him.

Anyway, the hallucinations fostered by religion are all panic-inducing, and his panic-inducing abilities can match them. To be honest, Zheng Fan was originally no different from a god in the eyes of his hosts and the people at Black Sparrow Studio.

"A genius!" Chasilu suddenly exclaimed.

Toast: ?
Chaxilu stepped forward: "This... although I don't know who you sculpted, and the shape itself carries many elements of existing mythology, the harmonious combination of all these elements, and the ability to give the first person who sees this sculpture enough shock! It is undoubtedly a work of genius! No wonder I felt your extraordinary charm the first time I saw you! You are definitely not just a piece of good-looking, good-smelling, and delicious toast!"

Zheng Fan: ?
He only felt that the toast had sculpted him quite well; was there really so much intricacies involved?

Toast: "Awooo?"

Are you really praising me?
A perfect loaf of toast doesn't need anyone else's approval. When the art is finished, the toast knows that its work is absolutely a masterpiece that defies the laws of nature.

"Waaaaah—!" Emily collapsed to her knees, she had only almost cried a moment ago, but now she was really crying.

She really didn't want something like toast! Wouldn't that mean she'd have no choice but to go back and inherit the family fortune with a broken heart?
Looking at the scene before him, Mo Mang felt it was incredibly chaotic.

Aren't they investigating the sculpture?
After a brief commotion, Zheng Fan clapped his hands to draw everyone's attention back: "Alright, Mo Mang, pack up this statue later."

So, brother, you are indeed very satisfied and really want it.

Mo Mang couldn't help but think to himself.

“Then Emily, stop crying. Anyway, it’s your own conflict, so they probably won’t hold you accountable. Just claim the paint.” Zheng Fan urged.

Emily then put aside her grief and plans to inherit the family fortune, and pointed her finger.

"That should be it."

"That's all?" Chasilu blurted out after seeing Emily's identification.

Emily's alleged retaliatory paint splatter was only half of all the paint in the world.

Emily was also puzzled: "Is that all? Didn't you do the rest? I was planning to start while you were having lunch, but I heard you were still busy inside. I'll go in this afternoon after you're done..."

"When did you come to apply the paint?" Chasilu held his breath.

As Emily blankly recited the date and time of the crime, Chasilu took out his phone to confirm the time and said, "I finished work early that morning and went back to my room to prepare the horror art design... I wasn't in the studio at all from noon to afternoon."

“But I did hear a sound, and the door was locked…” Emily’s face turned pale.

It seems she just brushed past something mysterious and eerie?

As they were talking, Mo Mang was gathering clues and honing his reconnaissance skills when suddenly he frowned, looking at the blackened "paint" on a sculpture. After examining it closely for a moment, he said, "This... isn't paint, is it?"

(End of this chapter)