Surprise! The Supposed Talent Show Was Actually–?!
Chapter Ch120.1 - Piano Playing
translator: xiin
editors: apricot & juurensha
Wu Jin heaved a sigh of relief when the instance scene began.
Unexpectedly, there was no drama behind the canvas of <Time Saving Truth…>, no fighting at all. There was only a light projected in the dark.
It was like a long and boring movie being played, captured from one camera from beginning to end.
It was Lemoyne, who painted his last work on canvas in 1737.
He had curly white hair, like the ghost in the Hercules Salon, and he wore a simple robe. There were many boards in his studio, but they were all covered up with black cloth. He painted in a small room with no light, and the scene was gloomy and cold.
He turned to Wu Jin and described with disgust the lies and jealousy that had all but beaten him into the ground.
Vera whispered, “If we watch on like this… will we be able to see the scene just before he killed himself? Or a sudden homicide?”
Wu Jin shook his head, “The instances in the gallery are only 20 minutes at the most. It’s not enough for him to finish the painting.”
“But there must be a key clue here.”
The two of them approached the projection of Lemoyne without the painter being aware of them there.
It was just a movie, Wu Jin thought to himself. Even at this moment, for the Lemoyne who lived in 1737, he and Vera were merely ghosts who’d broken into his studio.
The moment they arrived in front of the painter, Wu Jin froze. Lemoyne’s eyes were bloodshot, and they looked as though they hadn’t been closed in a long time.
The painter kneaded the tip of his brush and swept it over his palette. It seemed that he was creating in anger––when he finished with the brush, he was once again controlled by reason, filling in the colors peacefully, the tip of the brush smoothly sliding over the canvas.
One stroke, two strokes. Wu Jin fully believed in the results of the investigation into the cause of Lemoyne’s death. He was in a state of extreme schizophrenia.
The painter set down his paintbrush and began to sketch the goddess Truth with a long graphite-like stick. The goddess had her cheek raised, and when the painter drew, she looked light and gentle. With only a few strokes, her face and facial features were already outlined.
“He’s sad…” Wu Jin was stunned. “Could the clue be in the goddess of truth?”
Vera suddenly sucked in a breath of cold air and tugged at Wu Jin’s sleeve, “Look, look at his lines!”
Wu Jin narrowed his blind little guy eyes for a long time and only felt that she looked familiar. Vera finally couldn’t help reminding him, “The painting in the corridor just now, the dead lady on the funeral bed.”
“That’s his dead wife.”
Lemoyne drew out the lines, rubbed them out again, redrew them, and then rubbed them out again. He did it so many times that even Wu Jin could remember that face in his mind––
In his mind, countless clues appeared at random.
“He began to grow schizophrenic a year ago, powerless against his depression and paranoia.”
“The size fits. It’s 170×140… Although it’s not the one we’re looking for, it was framed in 1736.”
Lemoyne died in 1737, and his wife had been buried in 1736.
He’d painted the goddess of truth with the face of his dead wife, and imagined his wife’s death as a ‘lie’. He pretended that he was a warrior who reversed time. He beat down Falsehood with a sickle and brought his lover back from the hands of death––
“He used the knife to stab himself nine times in the throat and chest. He died of his last painting, the most outstanding one.”
The lighting in the instance was dim, and the painter disappeared from their field of vision as the exit opened up abruptly.
Wu Jin and Vera exchanged glances at the same time&#k2013;&#k2013;
“Go get the painting!”
Wu Jin nodded quickly, but his steps slowed the minute they went back outside.
A trainee who was still looking for the painting passed by, and Vera immediately pulled Wu Jin aside, “Little Witch, don’t lose heart, we’ll keep looking, it must be here!”
Wu Jin: “……”
The trainee was at ease as he left.
After making three turns in the gallery, that ‘lady on the funeral bed’ painting finally appeared.
It was 170X140, and there was a small line of text to the right showing the year it was finished: 1736.
“What are you thinking?” Vera tilted her head.
Wu Jin replied quietly, “I’m wondering about this lady’s name.”
The two of them pushed the wall behind the canvas, and the corridor flipped again. The two of them walked out of the instance a few minutes later.
Vera’s eyes were a little red, “Too depressing. Lemoyne faced her like that… painting her body for three days? Without eating or drinking?”
Wu Jin patted her on the shoulder.
Vera reminded him, “Also, we haven’t found the password––”
Wu Jin took her to the portrait of the young woman beside them, which was a painting Lemoyne had done of this lady when she was younger, “Let’s try again.”
Light and shadow were mottled together.
The young woman sat by a flower bed, laughing and moving even while her fiance painted her. The young Lemoyne was so anxious that he couldn’t help calling out to her, “Stiémart…”
For the first time, the name of the painting didn’t appear at the start of the instance.
It flashed in the middle of the instance.
<Stiémart> François Lemoyne. 1712.
Wu Jin: “Her name was Stiémart.”
Vera stared at it and looked it over three times, “…Eight letters.”
Wu Jin nodded.
The door to the gallery finally opened again.
Wu Jin held the oil painting, and Vera followed behind him with a long sword just in case anything happened.
Vera suddenly let out a burst of curses, “The card’s changed again! It’s informing the contestants to return to the Royal Chapel––”
Wu Jin’s eyes turned somber. If Wei Yan was still in an instance, then they’d still have enough time––
Vera exclaimed, “Wei Yan and them, they’re coming out!”
Wu Jin suddenly met Wei Yan’s gaze.
The human-shaped weapon was unsurprised that Wu Jin had been first to crack the instance. He nodded to Wu Jin as though it was a normal day at the Crosson Show, said good morning, and then led his teammate away.
Vera was in a trance, “He didn’t snatch the painting?”
“……” Wu Jin stared at Wei Yan’s back and said reluctantly, “He went directly to the chapel. He’s waiting for us to pass by so that he can intercept us…”
Vera slammed a foot on the armrest, “%@#!…”
At the other end of the corridor, the Red Rose Ning Fengbei passed by with a pale and weak Thin Fire in tow. She giggled when she saw Vera.
Vera straightened her back instantly, her eyes turning cold and dignified as she swept her gaze over Thin Fire before looking back at Wu Jin, her gaze full of satisfaction.
Ning Fengbei’s expression gradually turned cold, and she ‘tsked’ at Thin Fire.
“???” Thin Fire was confused, “Lady, how did I offend you?”
After the two of them disappeared, Wu Jin set down the painting and bowed his head in thought, “It requires at least two A-level trainees to stop Wei Yan. If we both go up against him, he’ll have his teammate come over to snatch the painting. If only one of us goes, then Wei Yan will come directly to snatch the painting away. If nobody goes to attack, then Wei Yan will beat both of us…”
At this time, Caesar, who was wandering around in the corridor, came over with shining eyes.
“Little Witch! Wanna listen to music? We have a stupid ghost here who insists on 200 listeners before he plays the music––”
Vera rubbed her forehead, “You still haven’t found enough people?”
Caesar slapped his thigh, “No! Who told that ghost to be so stupid? Well, that code box is stuck in the piano, and he has to play the piano to make it show up.”
Wu Jin suddenly straightened up.
Vera looked at him blankly.
Wu Jin spoke one word at a time, “The locked box is placed inside the body of the piano, and the hammers must fall in a fixed order. That’s the first password that causes the locked box to appear.”
Although Caesar didn’t understand, he nodded repeatedly out of habit.
Wu Jin explained patiently, “As long as the ghost’s music is played, anyone will be able to obtain the box.”
Caesar pondered this for a long time, “If I was able to play the piano, why would I come here to become a trainee?!”
Wu Jin handed the picture frame to Vera, and the three of them made their way through the corridor to where many people were gathered around the piano bench. Through the light that came through the blinds that blocked out the faint sun, Wu Jin finally saw the ghost that floated over the grand piano.
It was a middle-aged court musician in splendid clothing, looking proud and dignified. He looked quite different from Lemoyne.
The composer of <Te Deum>, the Sun King’s chief musician, Jean-Baptiste Lully.
Wu Jin sat down at the piano stool.
The crowd all froze and stared foolishly at Wu Jin. The ghost was also in a daze for a few seconds, and then it charged angrily at Wu Jin, its mouth opening and closing as it shouted silently.
My piano stool!
Go away, go away! Go away ahh!
Wu Jin allowed Lully’s projection to go right through him.
He went over the music he’d read in the library in his head one last time––
Slender fingers skimmed over the keys, and the same sound the ghost had produced poured out––
The White Moonlight trainee sat gracefully on the piano stool, the morning light coating his curls in platinum. His small round face was unfathomable, and the players gathered around him all had wide eyes as they stared.
Outside the Palace of Versailles.
Chu Chu, who was delightedly counting a stack of cards, chattered incessantly at Wei Shi, even if this ‘carry’ teammate of hers made no response and treated her as though she was transparent.
Chu Chu: “Big boss! Should we snatch up another princess card? The type with a little skirt, the fluffy one with lace. If you can get it, I’ll promise not to speak nonsense for an hour––”
“Big boss! Big brother, big sir! ––Who is playing the piano inside?”
Wei Shi narrowed his eyes and looked towards the source of sound nearby, in the semi-open Royal Hall, and he gave an unprecedented ‘en’ sound.
Chu Chu could hear that he was in a good mood from that one syllable, and rushed up to curry favor.
Beside the grand piano.
As the score was accurately played out, the hammers inside the piano moved constantly akin to an ancient telegraph machine, merging together into a long telegraph code.
A corner of the locked box slowly revealed itself.
All the contestants, Caesar included, rushed to the piano, their eyes bright––
Wu Jin suddenly stopped playing.
Caesar immediately shouted, “Little Witch, come on, continue, continue!”
Wu Jin smiled and said, “Help me block a person after the song’s been finished.”
“Wei Yan.”
The crowd stood still for two seconds.
Wei Yan had a reputation as a human-shaped weapon, and it was too much of a loss to be eliminated just for the sake of a locked box…
Wu Jin added decisively, “Personal safety guaranteed! And also the password for the locked box!”
The trainees were stunned, then bravely jumped up to agree––
“We’ll stop him! We’ll definitely stop him! Why be scared of Wei Yan!”, “Deal, deal!”, “Come! Brother Wu, let’s talk about this in detail––”
xiin: Wei Shi: I can hear my baby playing the piano *good mood*
Chapter 169: Piano Playing
translator: xiin
editors: apricot & juurensha
Wu Jin heaved a sigh of relief when the instance scene began.
Unexpectedly, there was no drama behind the canvas of <Time Saving Truth…>, no fighting at all. There was only a light projected in the dark.
It was like a long and boring movie being played, captured from one camera from beginning to end.
It was Lemoyne, who painted his last work on canvas in 1737.
He had curly white hair, like the ghost in the Hercules Salon, and he wore a simple robe. There were many boards in his studio, but they were all covered up with black cloth. He painted in a small room with no light, and the scene was gloomy and cold.
He turned to Wu Jin and described with disgust the lies and jealousy that had all but beaten him into the ground.
Vera whispered, “If we watch on like this… will we be able to see the scene just before he killed himself? Or a sudden homicide?”
Wu Jin shook his head, “The instances in the gallery are only 20 minutes at the most. It’s not enough for him to finish the painting.”
“But there must be a key clue here.”
The two of them approached the projection of Lemoyne without the painter being aware of them there.
It was just a movie, Wu Jin thought to himself. Even at this moment, for the Lemoyne who lived in 1737, he and Vera were merely ghosts who’d broken into his studio.
The moment they arrived in front of the painter, Wu Jin froze. Lemoyne’s eyes were bloodshot, and they looked as though they hadn’t been closed in a long time.
The painter kneaded the tip of his brush and swept it over his palette. It seemed that he was creating in anger––when he finished with the brush, he was once again controlled by reason, filling in the colors peacefully, the tip of the brush smoothly sliding over the canvas.
One stroke, two strokes. Wu Jin fully believed in the results of the investigation into the cause of Lemoyne’s death. He was in a state of extreme schizophrenia.
The painter set down his paintbrush and began to sketch the goddess Truth with a long graphite-like stick. The goddess had her cheek raised, and when the painter drew, she looked light and gentle. With only a few strokes, her face and facial features were already outlined.
Vera suddenly sucked in a breath of cold air and tugged at Wu Jin’s sleeve, “Look, look at his lines!”
Wu Jin narrowed his blind little guy eyes for a long time and only felt that she looked familiar. Vera finally couldn’t help reminding him, “The painting in the corridor just now, the dead lady on the funeral bed.”
“That’s his dead wife.”
Lemoyne drew out the lines, rubbed them out again, redrew them, and then rubbed them out again. He did it so many times that even Wu Jin could remember that face in his mind––
In his mind, countless clues appeared at random.
“He began to grow schizophrenic a year ago, powerless against his depression and paranoia.”
“The size fits. It’s 170×140… Although it’s not the one we’re looking for, it was framed in 1736.”
Lemoyne died in 1737, and his wife had been buried in 1736.
He’d painted the goddess of truth with the face of his dead wife, and imagined his wife’s death as a ‘lie’. He pretended that he was a warrior who reversed time. He beat down Falsehood with a sickle and brought his lover back from the hands of death––
“He used the knife to stab himself nine times in the throat and chest. He died of his last painting, the most outstanding one.”
The lighting in the instance was dim, and the painter disappeared from their field of vision as the exit opened up abruptly.
Wu Jin and Vera exchanged glances at the same time&#k2013;&#k2013;
“Go get the painting!”
Wu Jin nodded quickly, but his steps slowed the minute they went back outside.
A trainee who was still looking for the painting passed by, and Vera immediately pulled Wu Jin aside, “Little Witch, don’t lose heart, we’ll keep looking, it must be here!”
Wu Jin: “……”
The trainee was at ease as he left.
After making three turns in the gallery, that ‘lady on the funeral bed’ painting finally appeared.
It was 170X140, and there was a small line of text to the right showing the year it was finished: 1736.
Wu Jin replied quietly, “I’m wondering about this lady’s name.”
The two of them pushed the wall behind the canvas, and the corridor flipped again. The two of them walked out of the instance a few minutes later.
Vera’s eyes were a little red, “Too depressing. Lemoyne faced her like that… painting her body for three days? Without eating or drinking?”
Wu Jin patted her on the shoulder.
Vera reminded him, “Also, we haven’t found the password––”
Wu Jin took her to the portrait of the young woman beside them, which was a painting Lemoyne had done of this lady when she was younger, “Let’s try again.”
Light and shadow were mottled together.
The young woman sat by a flower bed, laughing and moving even while her fiance painted her. The young Lemoyne was so anxious that he couldn’t help calling out to her, “Stiémart…”
For the first time, the name of the painting didn’t appear at the start of the instance.
It flashed in the middle of the instance.
<Stiémart> François Lemoyne. 1712.
Wu Jin: “Her name was Stiémart.”
Vera stared at it and looked it over three times, “…Eight letters.”
Wu Jin nodded.
The door to the gallery finally opened again.
Wu Jin held the oil painting, and Vera followed behind him with a long sword just in case anything happened.
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It was almost 7 o’clock in the Palace of Versailles, and the place was shrouded in the morning light. Most of the trainees had two black circles beneath their eyes from staying up all night to crack the instances.Vera suddenly let out a burst of curses, “The card’s changed again! It’s informing the contestants to return to the Royal Chapel––”
Wu Jin’s eyes turned somber. If Wei Yan was still in an instance, then they’d still have enough time––
Wu Jin suddenly met Wei Yan’s gaze.
The human-shaped weapon was unsurprised that Wu Jin had been first to crack the instance. He nodded to Wu Jin as though it was a normal day at the Crosson Show, said good morning, and then led his teammate away.
Vera was in a trance, “He didn’t snatch the painting?”
“……” Wu Jin stared at Wei Yan’s back and said reluctantly, “He went directly to the chapel. He’s waiting for us to pass by so that he can intercept us…”
Vera slammed a foot on the armrest, “%@#!…”
At the other end of the corridor, the Red Rose Ning Fengbei passed by with a pale and weak Thin Fire in tow. She giggled when she saw Vera.
Vera straightened her back instantly, her eyes turning cold and dignified as she swept her gaze over Thin Fire before looking back at Wu Jin, her gaze full of satisfaction.
Ning Fengbei’s expression gradually turned cold, and she ‘tsked’ at Thin Fire.
“???” Thin Fire was confused, “Lady, how did I offend you?”
After the two of them disappeared, Wu Jin set down the painting and bowed his head in thought, “It requires at least two A-level trainees to stop Wei Yan. If we both go up against him, he’ll have his teammate come over to snatch the painting. If only one of us goes, then Wei Yan will come directly to snatch the painting away. If nobody goes to attack, then Wei Yan will beat both of us…”
At this time, Caesar, who was wandering around in the corridor, came over with shining eyes.
“Little Witch! Wanna listen to music? We have a stupid ghost here who insists on 200 listeners before he plays the music––”
Vera rubbed her forehead, “You still haven’t found enough people?”
Caesar slapped his thigh, “No! Who told that ghost to be so stupid? Well, that code box is stuck in the piano, and he has to play the piano to make it show up.”
Wu Jin suddenly straightened up.
Vera looked at him blankly.
Wu Jin spoke one word at a time, “The locked box is placed inside the body of the piano, and the hammers must fall in a fixed order. That’s the first password that causes the locked box to appear.”
Although Caesar didn’t understand, he nodded repeatedly out of habit.
Wu Jin explained patiently, “As long as the ghost’s music is played, anyone will be able to obtain the box.”
Wu Jin handed the picture frame to Vera, and the three of them made their way through the corridor to where many people were gathered around the piano bench. Through the light that came through the blinds that blocked out the faint sun, Wu Jin finally saw the ghost that floated over the grand piano.
It was a middle-aged court musician in splendid clothing, looking proud and dignified. He looked quite different from Lemoyne.
The composer of <Te Deum>, the Sun King’s chief musician, Jean-Baptiste Lully.
Wu Jin sat down at the piano stool.
The crowd all froze and stared foolishly at Wu Jin. The ghost was also in a daze for a few seconds, and then it charged angrily at Wu Jin, its mouth opening and closing as it shouted silently.
My piano stool!
Go away, go away! Go away ahh!
Wu Jin allowed Lully’s projection to go right through him.
He went over the music he’d read in the library in his head one last time––
Slender fingers skimmed over the keys, and the same sound the ghost had produced poured out––
The White Moonlight trainee sat gracefully on the piano stool, the morning light coating his curls in platinum. His small round face was unfathomable, and the players gathered around him all had wide eyes as they stared.
Outside the Palace of Versailles.
Chu Chu, who was delightedly counting a stack of cards, chattered incessantly at Wei Shi, even if this ‘carry’ teammate of hers made no response and treated her as though she was transparent.
Chu Chu: “Big boss! Should we snatch up another princess card? The type with a little skirt, the fluffy one with lace. If you can get it, I’ll promise not to speak nonsense for an hour––”
“Big boss! Big brother, big sir! ––Who is playing the piano inside?”
Wei Shi narrowed his eyes and looked towards the source of sound nearby, in the semi-open Royal Hall, and he gave an unprecedented ‘en’ sound.
Chu Chu could hear that he was in a good mood from that one syllable, and rushed up to curry favor.
Beside the grand piano.
As the score was accurately played out, the hammers inside the piano moved constantly akin to an ancient telegraph machine, merging together into a long telegraph code.
All the contestants, Caesar included, rushed to the piano, their eyes bright––
Wu Jin suddenly stopped playing.
Caesar immediately shouted, “Little Witch, come on, continue, continue!”
Wu Jin smiled and said, “Help me block a person after the song’s been finished.”
“Wei Yan.”
The crowd stood still for two seconds.
Wei Yan had a reputation as a human-shaped weapon, and it was too much of a loss to be eliminated just for the sake of a locked box…
Wu Jin added decisively, “Personal safety guaranteed! And also the password for the locked box!”
The trainees were stunned, then bravely jumped up to agree––
“We’ll stop him! We’ll definitely stop him! Why be scared of Wei Yan!”, “Deal, deal!”, “Come! Brother Wu, let’s talk about this in detail––”
xiin: Wei Shi: I can hear my baby playing the piano *good mood*
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