Following our time in the painting exhibition, Rosmiel-san continued to guide me through her art collection. Her archive was truly impressive, and her explanations were so clear and engaging that I found myself genuinely enjoying the tour.
Once we had finished our circuit of the rooms, we decided to head back, but something caught my eye.
“...Rosmiel-san, what’s through that door?”
We had ended in the sculpture gallery, but there was another door separate from the one we had entered through. Since she had mentioned the exhibition area ended here, I realized it likely wasn't another display room and worried I might have asked something nosy. However, Rosmiel-san didn't seem to mind at all.
“That’s my atelier,” she replied.
“An atelier... Ah, so that’s where you create your paintings.”
“Yes. If you’re curious, would you like to take a look?”
“Really? Is that okay?”
“I’m not sure how interesting it will be, but...” She gave a small, wry smile as she opened the door.
The interior was surprisingly spacious. It was a proper workshop, filled with a full range of tools—not just for painting, but for sculpting as well. It felt like a comprehensive creative studio.
“...Wait. Why can I see the flower fields from down here?”
“Ah, the walls are designed to reflect the view from the windows in the room upstairs.”
“I see. So you can use it as a reference while you work.”
“Exactly. I paint the flowers quite often, after all.”
“Wow... that’s an incredible variety of brushes.”
This was likely the first time I’d ever taken a close look at a professional artist's setup. I’d chosen music as my elective in middle school and hadn't been very involved in the arts since, so the novelty of it all was fascinating.
The canvases were also quite large. Painting on something that scale seemed like a monumental task—certainly far beyond someone like me, who lacked any real artistic sense.
“Kaito-kun, since you’re here, why don't you try painting something?”
“Wait, me? I’m interested, but... I haven’t really painted anything in years.”
“It’s fine. I’ll teach you.”
How long had it been since I’d last tried to draw? Middle school? It had to be at least ten years ago. I’d never been particularly good at it, either—in fact, I was pretty terrible.
Anything involving the fine arts was a struggle for me; even my clay projects back in the day had been disasters. But I felt bad about turning down Rosmiel-san’s kind offer.
More importantly, looking at the expectant light in her eyes, I realized that refusing wasn't really an option.
“...Alright, just a little then.”
“Wonderful! Just a moment, I’ll get a new canvas ready.”
Whether she was simply happy to share her hobby or just being her usual kind self, Rosmiel-san began the preparations with a radiant smile. I shifted awkwardly, my eyes wandering around the room.
She was bringing out a brand-new canvas... I really felt like I was about to disgrace the medium.
With an indescribable tension knotting my stomach, I sat on the stool she offered and faced the blank white void. It was even bigger up close. How was I supposed to fill a canvas this size?
“Umm, I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. What should I draw?”
“Let’s see. How about a landscape? The flower field right in front of us would be a perfect subject.”
“I-I understand.”
“You don’t need to be so nervous. Don’t worry about making it look perfect; just enjoy the process.”
“Right... Okay. Where do I start?”
I gripped the brush and palette, looking back at her for guidance. Rosmiel-san gave me a gentle smile and reached out to take my hand.
“First, let’s block in the colors roughly. See how the red flowers are concentrated over there? We’ll start by painting this area red...”
“Wait, is it okay to be that bold with it?”
“Yes. You can layer more on later. And over here...”
As she spoke, she placed her hand over mine, guiding my brush across the canvas to show me the technique. I was just starting to think, 'I see,' when I suddenly felt a soft, yielding sensation against my back.
I was sitting on a backless round stool. Rosmiel-san was leaning in from directly behind me to reach my hand.
The realization hit me instantly. That soft pressure on my back was... Umm... This was bad. Suddenly, her explanation of how to paint stopped registering entirely.
Rosmiel-san continued her instruction, seemingly unaware of the contact, but my consciousness was focused solely on the point where she was pressing against me. I knew she was well-endowed, but... No, get it together! Stop those wicked thoughts!
But what was I supposed to do? I didn’t have the guts to tell her she was pressing her chest into my back, but staying silent made me feel like I was taking advantage of her innocence.
“Hmm? Kaito-kun, is something wrong?”
“E-Eh? No! I mean... nothing! I think I’ve got the hang of this part, so I’ll try painting the rest on my own!”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be right here if you need any more help.”
In the end, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I blurted out a hasty excuse to break the contact. It worked—she stepped back—but my peace of mind was gone. It goes without saying that my strokes for the next while were erratic, my mind far too preoccupied with the lingering warmth on my back to focus on the art.
Serious-senpai: “She did it! She actually went for the classic big-sister back-press technique! Damn it, the sugar content is... nngh, at this rate...”
???: “Who exactly are you fighting with...?”