My Daddy Hides His Power Chapter 299 - Side story Part 1 Chapter 39

“That crazy!! Old man!!!” 

 

“Ahaha… ha, hahaha…”

 

“Has he gone senile or what!!!!!”

 

“Ugh… Masterrrr….”

 

Even though I covered my ears, it was useless. The roar of the monster piercing through his hands made it feel like blood was going to pour out of his ears.

 

‘What a prejudiced and rude old man!’

 

How did I end up bringing Oscar, who was complaining and showing every kind of annoyance, all the way here?

 

I stared at the tightly closed cottage door, feeling a surge of frustration.

 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming!” 

 

At that moment, Mr. Maller opened the door, shouted at us irritably, and then quickly retreated back inside.

 

I turned around and walked toward the two men.

 

Oscar was trembling uncontrollably.

 

“…I don’t want to be stuffed and preserved by that senile old man. Let’s go back to the capital and find someone else.”

 

“Sigh, do you really think so?”

 

Mr. Maller was a master among masters, a true artisan, who had been reserved by Erica, now a veteran in wedding preparations, with a hefty reservation fee of a whopping ten million gold.

 

I had already heard of the name “Maller Palette,” which was widely known in the capital…

 

I was the one who had to hand over 10 million gold in a hurry to Erica, who had to cancel the reservation!

 

‘My money!’

 

However, putting aside how skilled he might be, to treat his guests so rudely right from the start…

 

‘Ten million gold—whose dog name is that!’

 

As I was contemplating, the large reservation fee flashing in my mind, Dad spoke.

 

“Still, we’ve come this far, so how about we at least see one of his paintings?”

 

“I don’t want to. Absolutely not. I don’t want to go into that shabby hut that looks like it’s about to collapse.”

 

“Ey, don’t be like that.” 

 

“Wow, this is so unpleasant. Wow, I’m getting chills. Wow, this is the most disgusting misunderstanding I’ve ever experienced. Hey, don’t come any closer. Don’t get near me.”

 

“….”

 

Oscar swept his arms away from Dad, feeling goosebumps. 

 

“No, what are you…” 

 

Dad twitched his eyebrows, offended by his disgusted appearance.

 

“Lord of the Wizard Tower! Do you think someone’s enjoying this? I don’t like it either, you know? But I’m still holding it in, so is this really necessary, acting disgusted like this in front of people?” 

 

“Ugh, chills. Uuuugh!”

 

Dad, who had been glaring at Oscar, suddenly smiled, twitching his lips.

 

Why is he doing that? I wondered, but Dad quietly whispered in my ear. 

 

“But princess. Dad feels so, so good right now. Is this a strange feeling?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“It seems like the Lord of the Wizard Tower has met his match. Isn’t it the first time you’ve seen someone who always knows how to throw harsh words at others, actually getting upset and shouting in frustration?”

 

“No, Dad?”

 

Dad seemed to really like the way Oscar was being treated.

 

“Alright, Lord of the Wizard Tower. It might be shocking for you, but honestly, I’m fine. That’s because I’ve already gotten pretty used to your sharp tongue.” 

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Originally, geniuses tend to act so sensitive like that. I was just surprised because that painter’s way of shutting people up is so similar to yours, Lord of the Wizard Tower, right?”

 

Muttering words that could either be comforting or an attack, Dad pushed Oscar’s back.

 

“I even thought there might be some kind of secret birth story the Lord of the Wizard Tower doesn’t know about. Maybe… do you have a distant relative you lost contact with a long time ago?” 

 

“What are you talking about…!”

 

“Let’s just check if he’s really as skilled as the rumors say. If he’s not, we leave. Okay? I mean, aren’t you curious why someone who talks like that still gets so many clients?”

 

“R, right. Master.” 

 

Regretting the ten million gold, I quickly clung to Oscar’s arm and begged him.

 

“Just take a look, please? Okay?”

 

“Haa…” 

 

He closed his eyes tightly, calming his anger, and eventually spoke.

 

“If his skills are just so-so, we’re leaving right away.” 

 

“Alright, alright!”

 

“Master, you’re the best!”

 

We eventually entered the hut.

 

“Mr. Maller!”

 

I said with a voice full of distrust.

 

“If you have any works, I’d like to see them first.”

 

“The studio is upstairs.”

 

He pointed to the second floor and went up the stairs first. The passage was very narrow, so we had to go up one at a time.

 

“Ha, damn. Look how cramped it is…”

 

“Lord of the Wizard Tower, ssh…” 

 

“What do you mean ‘shh’? Hey, old man!”

 

Oscar, who was coming up at the very back, shouted.

 

“Even though it’s a pointless question just by looking at those spindly legs shaking, can you work outdoors?”

 

“Hey, come on!”

 

Dad stopped Oscar and revised his question.

 

“Sir, my daughter has a specific composition in mind. We’ve prepared a carriage outside; would it be possible to work outdoors?”

 

“I can’t go far! If you want to paint outside, do it right here in front!”

 

There are only rice paddies in front of here…

 

I sighed involuntarily.

 

Will I be able to properly draw my one and only wedding portrait?

 

We soon arrived at the second floor.

 

There was a room that seemed to be the studio, and in the living room, a spacious round table was placed.

 

“The work fee is paid in advance.”

 

Mr. Maller said, picking up the pen that was rolling around on the table.

 

Oscar was shocked.

 

“…? What kind of gutsy business is this? I already paid the deposit, and now you’re asking for the full payment upfront? And you’re not even going to give a refund if the drawing turns out badly… Ugh!” 

 

“Ahaha! How do you set the price?”

 

It seemed utterly pointless to cover his mouth now, but even so, Dad held Oscar back and asked.

 

It’ll probably get more expensive if the ceremonial outfits are fancy or if there are a lot of people. 

 

I stood up straight, spreading out my dress so Mr. Maller could see it clearly.

 

“Hmm.” 

 

However, instead of looking at the dress like I expected, Mr. Maller began carefully examining my face for some reason. 

 

“A million.”

 

Next, Dad’s face.

 

“A million here too.”

 

Mr. Maller, who had been naming prices one after another like he was pricing livestock, stood in front of Oscar and fell silent for a long moment.

 

“….”

 

Then he returned to the table and waved his pen around.

 

“The total price is five million gold.”

 

“….?”

 

Oscar immediately shouted.

 

“Why am I three million?!!!”

 

Mr. Maller pretended not to hear.

 

“Hey, you damn old man! Give us a clear pricing standard that a customer can actually understand! Otherwise, I’ll… mmph!”

 

“Haha! Why even ask something like that? Looks like he just charges more for good-looking people!” 

 

At Dad’s soothing words, Mr. Maller, who was about to open the studio door, frowned and turned back.

 

“What are you talking about? It’s just because it’s hard to draw, though?”

 

“Aaaaaah!”

 

I’m going crazy, really.

 

I covered my face with both hands.

 

As Dad said, it seemed like Oscar had met his match.

 

“Hey! Go home! I can’t take this anymore. I’m leaving right now. There are plenty of other painters besides that old man…”

 

Before Oscar could finish his angry words.

 

Mr. Maller opened the studio door.

 

The moment the smell of paints wafted into my nose.

 

“Ah.”

 

I was speechless.

 

A ray of sunlight streaming in through the narrow window.

 

Canvases were placed one by one on the easels that filled the studio.

 

Inside the canvases were photographs.

 

No, they were like photographs.

 

‘No way…’

 

I immediately understood.

 

Why the elderly painter “Maller Palette,” who lives in this countryside, became the most famous person in the capital. 

 

The happiest day in the world.

 

The bride and groom, dressed in beautiful dresses and splendid tuxedos, were smiling brightly in Mr. Maller’s painting.

 

Hyper-realistic painting style.

 

It was amazing that the subject was captured just like a photograph, but what was even more surprising was…

 

‘They look so… happy…’

 

The emotion of the moment.

 

In other words, it felt like the painting captured not just the appearance, but the very emotions of the happiest moment in the world at that time.

 

[The Wedding Artist Who Preserves Emotions, Maller Palette]

 

I finally understood why the title often attached to him in articles was so fitting.

 

“That’s amazing… truly.”

 

Dad, who had been just as speechless as I was, finally managed to voice his thoughts.

 

Mr. Maller walked in with a thud and plopped down on his old work chair.

 

He then glared at Oscar while organizing his brushes.

 

“If you don’t like it, then leave. As he said, there are many painters.”

 

I looked back at Oscar.

 

And I begged him earnestly in my heart.

 

‘Please, Master.’

 

Mr. Maller’s complete lack of manners had already flown out of my mind by then.

 

He’s such an incredible genius—it’s only natural he’d be a little sensitive and irritable. 

 

You’re the same, Master.

 

“….”

 

But Oscar didn’t seem to be particularly impressed.

 

“Get out of the way.”

 

He pushed me aside and went inside.

 

And like a chaebol out inspecting a department store gallery, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and slowly walked around the studio.

 

“Of course, there are plenty of painters out there.” 

 

Oscar, who had muttered as if these fantastic paintings were nothing special, soon stood before Mr. Maller.

 

The two of them faced each other…

 

It was truly a meeting of two proud geniuses.

 

Who will be the winner?

 

If there was any popcorn, I’d like to open it. 

 

“Then again, shouldn’t you listen to what people have to say until the end?”

 

“What?”

 

“Painters are everywhere….”

 

Mr. Maller glanced up at Oscar with a gruff expression.

 

“…But.”

 

Oscar neatly adjusted Mr. Maller’s shirt collar, patted his shoulders, and then… 

 

“Among them, the one who can be called a true painter is….” 

 

He smiled slightly and pointed at Mr. Maller with his index finger. 

 

“It means only you, Mr. Maller Palette.”