Thousands of figures in the Grand Theater were deliberately blurred in the unseen corners, like ghosts in the dust of history, shrouded in heavy gloom.
In the vast space, only the girl's voice lingered above.
The bullet screen, which had previously been filled with unanimous praise for the girl, fell silent for a moment, with only scattered remarks drifting by.
“Things are getting interesting.”
“What is she trying to do?”
“We need to find a way to distance her from our Tree of Eternal Life. If she implicates us, Belvedere will definitely use this as an excuse to escalate things after this incident, and the decades-long factional balance will be broken!”
Someone in the Tree of Eternal Life club room exclaimed loudly.
“Yes, yes, quickly contact Therese! Have her find a way to handle the bill issue, and afterwards, contact Mr. Ayin to sort out the internal personnel transfers within the Starry Forest!”
At this moment, these renowned great artists of society were as anxious as ants on a hot pan, stamping their feet and making call after call on their Curtain Net phones, desperately trying to sever any ties between the girl and their network. From a corner, Gawain observed this scene, shaking his head with a slight smile.
“You truly disappoint me!”
At that moment, a voice reprimanded everyone, and the other artists looked up to see Vantel, who had been grim-faced all along, standing up.
“We have fought against Belvedere’s faction for so many years. Has 122 years of wind and snow not only eroded your spirit but also crushed your spines?”
The great artists, one by one, lowered their heads in shame. Da Finney stepped forward, intending to offer a few mollifying words, but was forced back by the lightning crackling around Vantel. The latter paced the room, his eyes filled with deep sorrow as he looked at everyone.
“Why didn’t I realize it before? What kind of ‘artists’ are you? The original practitioners of that era… ask yourselves, does this humble and ridiculous posture truly make you worthy of being called great artists alongside Raquel and Michiro from that era?!”
“The slightest disturbance scares you out of your wits. If Belvedere ever comes knocking, what will you do? Grovel for mercy, or betray your comrades?”
“What will your students think if they find out that the teachers they’ve always admired are nothing but gluttons and cowards?!”
The man’s powerful roar echoed through the room, rattling the ox-horn hammer ornament on the conference table and making everyone’s shoulders tremble as their gazes darted away.
“You’re the last one to lecture us, Vantel!” someone shouted, stepping forward to accuse him.
“You were one of the proponents of the 612 Orphanage Education Act back then. If anyone here is guilty of groveling to Belvedere and harming their comrades, it’s certainly you!”
“Haven’t you made countless deals with Belvedere? The Guidelines for High-Quality Regional Art Development—wasn’t that your idea to begin with? You openly dealt with Belvedere while secretly deceiving your students, brainwashing those poor souls with lofty words to jump into a pit of fire!”
“Exactly, Vantel. For all these years, you’ve never reflected on yourself, always doing as you please, scrutinizing us with a condescending gaze. Did you ever truly consider us comrades?”
“Or do you just want to overthrow Belvedere and become the next Belvedere, kicking all of us aside?”
Vantel’s chest heaved violently, and heavy breaths steamed from his nostrils.
These older practitioners knew best: the birth of The Artist was no accident. The mental state of the people on the Star of Art was not as stable as the annual reports from the Supervisory Association and the Life Daybreak Human Rights Association claimed. Belvedere alone could not sustain such a vast forest-like network.
They had created all of this with their own hands. For the sake of so-called art, they controlled people’s thoughts and blinded the association’s self-awareness. Until the curse descended sixty years ago, the so-called blessings were, from the very beginning, lies they told to deceive the public.
This was the power of a “miracle.”
The starry sky above the Star of Art was false. The true form of the Lord of the Stars was an insect coiled around the universe, and the three radiant stars that rose in the east and set in the west were its compound eyes, moving from its tail to its abdomen, then to its chest, as the hours of the day passed.
It watched the people on this land at all times, unleashing the power of miracles.
The ever-changing King of Wisdom, the joyful Lord of the Pole Star, the sole light in a turbid world, the great spring of wisdom in the icy lands.
You are the Lord of the Stars, governing change and destiny. Your will descends as snowflakes, spreading light and wisdom. Your kingdom is a land of noble ideals, fostering art and prosperity. You are the supreme truth we follow, the healing cocoon that redeems souls.
Textbooks would never teach the last line of this prayer.
And when our inspiration withers, we offer the colors of our souls with our own hands under your mocking gaze, so that you may forever watch over this god-forsaken land.
The Keyboard District permanently lost its colors because a “miracle” always came with a curse. The Withered-Flower family, which prospered for decades due to the Siren King's Miracle, would also suffer the price of decline due to the miracle's backlash.
People’s suppressed thoughts triggered the "Starry Miracle." Every gift of fate secretly came with a price. While inspiration flowed ceaselessly, the people here would also bear the cost of becoming monsters when their inspiration dried up, offering their faded souls for the Lord of the Pole Star to consume.
Everything had a trace. Since people’s pathological mental state could trigger the "Starry Miracle," it would eventually lead to the birth of powerful urban legends like The Artist. Even if The Artist was killed, as long as the root cause remained, thousands more artists would emerge in this icy land.
All of this was nothing but their own doing.
They reaped what they sowed.
This phrase couldn't be more fitting for them.
The higher one’s position, the more despair one felt about the truth facing the people here.
The Guidelines for High-Quality Regional Art Development was the result of his reluctant compromise. The fading of the Keyboard District had caused fear at the time. Even if he hadn't proposed the guidelines, Belvedere would have, under the guise of "regulating artistic creation" to prevent more disasters like the "Starry Miracle" from arising.
This was the pledge of allegiance he personally handed to Belvedere. He had indirectly harmed countless people, a nightmare that haunted him for the rest of his life.
Every month, the people of the Star of Art were required to submit their artistic creations for review by the Life Daybreak Art Association. After a successful review, they would be passed to the academy for final judgment. Those who failed the final judgment would be ordered to go to the Keyboard District.
Falling into that place where even colors were lost, it was almost impossible to pass judgment and return.
Such a mandatory policy for the people here was as common as taxes. While members of the Human Rights Association were fiercely debating the Akabane family’s forced administration of cinnabar drool to citizens, they completely ignored this, because the Starry Gallery annually transferred a large sum of money to the Human Rights Association, disguised as “friendly cooperation funds.”
Logically, such a policy, once enacted, should have provoked protests; at the very least, the people here should have expressed their stance. But the outcome defied their expectations.
Everyone believed it was perfectly normal.
Except for the unlucky ones about to be sent to the Keyboard District.
The reason was simple.
Because it wasn't them who were suffering.
Did their own parents, classmates, teachers, or even colleagues they had just met, have anything to do with them?
The orphanage system was fully implemented decades ago, but its true power was only beginning to manifest today.
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