Pielo.

He was a person befitting the name of the greatest artist, with white hair that complemented his white beard well.

‘But he must be quite meticulous.’

Having entered the palace for over 30 years, he had been at the highest position as a painter for about 10 years. Maintaining his current position as a senior artist in this competitive environment was evidence that he was no ordinary novice.

“Nice to meet you.”

I greeted him first, my mouth slightly dry, considering my interference in the affairs of the palace studio could be considered a problem.

Of course, if it came to that, I had a contingency plan.

However, I didn’t want to cause a big commotion, so I smiled calmly.

Pielo approached and briefly scanned the studio before turning his gaze to me.

“Your Grace, nice to meet you for the first time.”

Despite the simple greeting, Pielo’s distinctive deep voice silenced the studio. Others were busy glancing at Pielo.

Lucky, Octar, and the painter who agreed to provide the pigment—all of them were watching.

Thanks to this, I could see how influential Pielo’s words were in this place.

I placed the painting Lucky had drawn, which I had been holding, on the easel.

“Pielo, you mentioned there’s no need for an explanation of the current situation, right?”

“That’s correct.”

In response to Pielo’s courteous answer, deep wrinkles appeared on Octar’s forehead as he stood beside me. He seemed to think it was an unfavorable situation for him.

But pretending not to see him, I continued.

“In that case, I won’t bother with additional explanations.”

Taking a deep breath, I asked, “So, why did you entrust this painting to Lucky?”

What I wanted to ask him was not just about Lucky’s talent.

‘I won’t have any persuasive power with what I’m about to say.’

But if Pielo had already acknowledged Lucky’s talent, even though it was a parachute, he couldn’t deny it.

And the evidence was right in front of us.

The painting.

Pielo had already entrusted a painting to Lucky, a painting stained with Octar’s spilled oil and paint.

“The Empress mentioned that a painting for the upcoming banquet is needed and entrusted some of the work to him.”

“Even though his skills don’t match those of the palace painters?”

With everyone’s attention focused on me, I thought it would be better to assertively step forward rather than waver before Pielo. It wasn’t disrespectful, just assertive.

“Why assign a task that anyone else here could handle?”

I planned to take Lucky away without hesitation.

“If his skills as a palace painter aren’t recognized, I’ll make sure he has the opportunity to study more under our mother.”

Lucky lifted his tearful face, and I gave him a faint smile. Pielo approached him, passing by the tearful Lucky, and came towards me.

Our eyes met for a brief moment. Although my mouth was dry from tension, my eyes were filled with certainty.

‘A true artist has eyes that recognize skilled painters.’

Was my intention conveyed?

Eventually, his bearded mouth opened.

“We need this child. Please show mercy and let him work in the palace.”

In response to his words, Lucky, who had been sobbing quietly, lifted his head. When I offered a faint smile, Lucky quickly wiped away his tears.

“If he didn’t have the skills, we wouldn’t have given him a chance. The role of a palace painter is not to be a student learning here but to showcase existing skills.”

It meant that he already possessed the required skills.

Pielo’s gaze swept fiercely over the artists in the studio.

“Your Highness, or rather, the painter recommended by Empress, even if you’re not up to par, it’s difficult for painters with insufficient skills to survive here. Of course, I wouldn’t have given him work. But this child, in his position, offered to take on this painting, not just any leftover task.”

He was given work because he had the skills.

It meant that he wasn’t just a parachute.
I, too, realized something upon seeing Lucky’s stained painting.

“At the wedding, the painting I gave as a gift is much better now than the one I painted.”

Sitting here quietly, it was clear that he hadn’t painted the given picture by looking at other painters’ works and practicing his own.

Lucky was originally such a child.

Having matured early in a tough environment, he painted day and night to survive as an apprentice.

He was a child who cautiously used a lot of pigment. Since he was young, he must have wanted to grow even a little more.

Is the only one desiring a painter with such effort and talent his mother?

“This painting is also admirable. I didn’t expect an emotion to be expressed in such a stained painting. Yet, you can feel the emotions of this little angel.”

Pielo, who had approached the painting without me realizing it, exclaimed.

He already knew Lucky’s true value.

“Once again, I must thank His Highness for sending this child back to the palace.”

The response poured out more than I wanted to hear.

The only uncomfortable person in this situation was one.

As Pielo continued to praise, Octar bit his lips forcefully. But he couldn’t offer any rebuttal.