Portrait of the Dead Prince - Chapter 1

Later, even when Rodrigo was fled from Berton his reputation was so high that his fame did not get tarnished.

But in reality, what stood out was his wicked personality.

To be honest, besides his achievements he was just an aged old man who would say things like ‘Female painters can’t capture the logic of the world.’

Ironically, the reason I was able to become his apprentice was because of such narrow-mindedness.

My father had a playful personality and occasionally enjoyed pranking others, for example, he would take his daughter’s painting to a gathering and would fool everyone by introducing it as a foreign piece.

It was at such a gathering that my father and Rodrigo met by chance.

At a dinner attended by Rodrigo, like any other time, my father displayed my painting and bragged about it being a precious piece.

As a famous painter, it was a common thing for Rodrigo to be asked what he thinks about someone else’s personal painting collection.

Out of the many paintings, I don’t know what was that moved him in my painting, but Rodrigo highly praised it calling it a rare and attractive style of painting.

One thing to be told here is the fact that Rodrigo is not the type of person to simply compliment something to escape a situation.

At the unexpected praise, my playful father said he knew the painter personally and offered to arrange a meeting.

And while he was at it, he hintfully asked what Rodrigo thought about making the painter his apprentice.

Even until he agreed with my father saying that’s a good idea, Rodrigo was imagining interviewing a young man.

As a result, the day I first met Rodrigo, I learned the extent of how red the face of the artist I admired could get.

Maybe he thought he was totally deceived by father but throughout the first month, Rodrigo didn’t look at me even once.

He already had eight apprentices.

For him, who no longer had the enthusiasm to train his young students, I was just added burden on his back.

There was no way a student who is ignored by the teacher would be welcomed by other students.

I was not visibly harassed but the days where I would kill time doing still-life painting kept continuing.

Even though I was ignored, I still managed to survive that place.

I cleaned the floors and organized Rodrigo’s paint set even when no one asked me to.

On a morning just like any other day, I entered the atelier but found Rodrigo standing in front of my easel with his arms folded.

Even though he must have felt my presence, Rodrigo didn’t look at me.

After staring at my half incomplete painting for a good amount of time, he roughly pointed his finger towards the window and said,

“You, from now on you sit in that place.”

On that day, I moved my seat from the end of the atelier. My new place was where Rodrigo could yell at me if he was bored.

And like that, I was accepted as Rodrigo’s ninth apprentice.

As he was called the best painter of that time, important commissions kept piling in Rodrigo’s atelier.

Because, in the opposite case, such incidents have been witnessed countless times in the past.