Morimens story · Psyche Deepdive
Ghastly Canvas
4 scenes, 344 lines
1. Fauvist Pub, before the fight
85 linesHard soles hit the stone path of the cemetery. The clear sound of footsteps passes through densely packed graves, carried along the fog.
The footsteps stop. You lift your head; a rugged villa looms in the cemetery, resembling a massive, uniquely shaped tombstone.
Assorted dull pigments are smeared across its ancient, pitch-black walls, a lasting revelry on an abandoned dance floor.
The opening of this dream is quite refreshing.
Avery, a freshman Painting major at the Art Academy and supporter of innovative painting techniques...
You close your eyes and carefully recall your identity. A familiar name flashes in your mind.
There's a knock at the gate. You look to the left side of the villa, but there's no doorplate to be found, only a rough tombstone, upon which a name is grotesquely rendered in paint like dried blood.
Huh? Avery?! How did you find me here?
The young painter from your class excitedly opens the gate, his messy hair and paint-splattered clothes covered in various colors. He is the undisputed master of this villa.
You told me your address before, but I never expected 116 Futton Street to be a...
...What's wrong with your hands and feet?
Pickman lowers his head in confusion, as if he is discovering his bestial appendages for the first time.
Hands and feet? Oh, that... I'm currently researching some beastly body transformations, so, so I made some special decorations for myself. That's right, decorations!
Don't just stand at the door, please come in!
This place may have been a lavish mansion once, but all the valuable furnishings and decorations have been replaced by frenzied paintings and sculpted figures.
Hmm, this room really is your style...
Ah, sorry, sorry. I usually don't have time to tidy up, and servants aren't too keen on coming here, so it's a bit messy...
You told me your home address, but I never imagined that you would actually live in a cemetery.
I like this place; it's quiet and I can find plenty of models here. Finding someone to be a model is really hard, you know...
A model? You're looking for one in a graveyard?
Ah, never mind that... I've invited you so many times, why did you suddenly decide to visit my place? Aren't you supposed to attend the gallery exhibition today?
You didn't even give me a heads-up, so I didn't have time to prepare properly...
I've already visited the art exhibition. It's not far from here, so I decided to stop by and have a look.
Are you okay, Pickman? What Mr. Matthew said to you at the review meeting a few days ago really was a bit too much...
I haven't interacted with you often, but I know how astonishing your painting talents are.
You're sincerely passionate about art and a very sensitive individual. I'm concerned that Mr. Matthew's remarks might've affected you...
Pickman's eyes widen, his whole body starting to shake.
Pickman? What's wrong...?
Mr. Avery! You are the one person who understands me the most in this world! Meeting you has been the happiest thing in my life as a human!
As a human? ...Ah! Mr. Pickman... I'm a bit... out of breath...
Pickman releases his grip on you, nearly strangled in his embrace, and gives your shoulder an intense pat. You seem to hear the sound of bones cracking.
Pickman suddenly jumped up, giving you quite a scare.
I have a huge secret that I never intended to tell anyone. However, Mr. Avery, you are different from the rest! Rest assured, I promise I won't let your visit be in vain! Please, follow me!
Pickman invites you to sit on the sofa and enigmatically walks to a canvas at the center of the room.
Are you ready, Mr. Avery?
Are you trying to show me your latest painting? Indeed, I'm interested.
At tomorrow's art symposium, I'm preparing to recommend your work to the jury again. Your paintings are crucial for the Reformists...
Shh... Avery. Thank you for your kindness, but now isn't the time to talk about it.
You guessed half right... What I'm going to show you isn't just one of my paintings. I want to take you to see true art, the real world...
The real... world?
Pickman holds back his elation and pulls off the canvas's black shroud.
Beneath it, you see the blurred outline of a city. You try to examine it in detail, but find that your eyes are unable to focus on it no matter what you do.
Sorry, I might be a bit tired today, my vision's a bit blurry...
It's fine, Avery. Look close, even closer...
You take a deep breath and stare intently at the obscure painting.
The paint swirls. The lines swirl. The room swirls. Blurred light and shadows spread from the painting across the entire world, invading your mind. The whole universe swirls and churns.
Caught in the bleary whirl, you fall heavily to the ground...
...
Hmm... what is this...?
!!!
Where... where is this?!...
Fauvist Pub. Isn't this the place you've always wanted to visit?
Fauvist... Pub... Didn't I just doze off on your couch? When did we...
My couch? Oh my God, Avery, how much did you drink last night? You stayed over at my place two nights ago!
The way you acted after getting drunk at the tavern yesterday charmed quite a few people in this city! Do you know how many ladies were invited to model for you?
Me? Drinking?
You've nearly emptied all the booze in this tavern. Unfortunately, I'm severely allergic to alcohol. If I could get as intoxicated as you, I'm sure I could create even more impressive artwork!
This bizarre space and the memories you've never experienced before make you feel absurd. However, Pickman's assertive words, the dizziness in your head, and the unique dryness of waking up from a hangover...
You question your memories while fumbling to bring a cup of water on the table to your lips, taking large sips.
!!! Puh...
Avery, what's wrong?
This... these...
You look at the liquid spurting from your mouth: it's blood from an unknown era, swarming with reveling microbes and wriggling worms inside.
Your stomach churns as you lean over the table and start vomiting.
Ah, Mr. Avery, are you alright?
You seemed much more cheerful over drinks last night than you do now.
My wine is well loved by customers, but no matter how good the wine is, drinking too much can turn it into poison...
A warm hand rests on your body, gently caressing your back.
Ah, sorry, madam. I'm not feeling well right now...
You lift your head. Atop graceful curves and an exquisite body is a butterfly-like visage with yellow compound eyes.
Ah, pardon me, Mr. Avery. I was worn out from last night and haven't had the chance to fix my makeup yet.
Alright, Avery. Stop staring at the owner, it's quite impolite.
Today is the city's celebration day. The king's feast starts tonight and there are many novelties in the streets; perhaps the epiphany we're searching for is waiting right around the corner!
Let's go, let's go! If we don't hurry, we'll miss it!
Before you could respond, Pickman pulls you out of the pub without a word. You subconsciously glance back and come to a halt.
The look of this tavern...
Great, right? You were absolutely elated when we arrived yesterday!
Fashioned from stomach lining, the massive tavern gently writhes behind you, its biting acid occasionally dripping and corroding a sign that reads "Fauvism" in a thousand perforations.
The butterfly lady leaning against the stomach's entrance waves enthusiastically at you.
Pickman is talking incessantly in front of you as well, but you can't hear a word he's saying.
You turn around in a daze, following him numbly as you walk deeper into the eerie city.
2. Salon on Sludge, before the fight
85 linesYou take one last look at the sky. A blood-red, veiny eye bulges and stares at you where the moon should be.
No matter where you go or what you do, its gaze is fixed firmly on you. You try to meet its gaze, try to forget it, but all efforts are in vain.
Flesh Bonsai, a purely man-made miracle of life! Give it a story and it will laugh for you! Give it a drop of blood and it will bloom into the most beautiful flower for you!
Handcrafted by the renowned artisan Fran, this skull-shaped chalice is one of the last ten pieces, once they're gone, they're gone! Step back, step back. One at a time.
The Flower of Memory's pollen weaves a life for you that is both tangible and illusory, dreamlike and surreal. You two, would you like to experience it?
How about it, Avery? Want to give it a try?
Forget it... What it offers isn't much different from my current situation. Thanks anyways...
You follow Pickman's gaze. At a traveling merchant's stall lies a pile of paints, writhing like living creatures, in front of a woman resembling a bouquet.
It's a colorful array of paints; each hue, as sticky and dirty as this grotesque world, makes you feel as though something is gripping your stomach ever-so-tightly.
Gentlemen, would you like to give it a try? There is always a thick coat of paint separating humans from the truth of this world. Apply these specially-crafted pigments made from the living, merge into the city, and get closer to its essence...
Closer... to the essence of this world?!
Just like this...
The shopkeeper picks up the paint and pours it over themself.
Only by attuning yourself to the colors of this world can you touch its truth. Don't you think so, Mr. Painter?
Of course! Of course! Give me ten cans!
Pickman, let me make one thing clear: I have no intention of playing along with this.
How can this be, Avery?! You're an innovative artist!
A chance to approach the essence of the world, a chance to create exceptional art, you really can't bear to give it up!
Come on, Avery! Let's explore the true essence of art together!
Uh, I...
Ten cans of living paint have been prepared for you. The total cost is only a hundred and twenty finger bones.
No problem! Avery, did you bring the money?
...When we left the Fauvist Pub, I handed all the broken bones I had to the innkeeper. Let's not get caught up in the pigments for now, Pickman.
We've been wandering since morning, hoping to enter the royal mansion for the banquet, but it seems like an endless wait. Right now, we're clueless.
Don't worry, my bosom friend! Opportunities, like inspiration, will always reach out to you at your most desperate moments, as your most loyal ally...
Snap...
Pickman is immersed in his own enthusiastic monologue when a dirty, disheveled poster flutters in the wind, landing on his face and covering his mouth.
Everything in this city is wonderful; even the trash that everyone throws away has such an artistic touch... Hmm, what's written on this...
The Housekeeper of the Ossuary Palace is currently recruiting painters to create artwork for the banquet. Registration is now full, and everyone is welcome to attend the event...
!!! Avery! Look over there!
A large crowd has gathered ahead and, without hesitation, Pickman pulls you forward. In the throng of people, you struggle to push your way through.
Beneath a racetrack's luxurious grandstand, four pig-headed people dressed in paint-stained, velvet tuxedos are gathering around a muddy quagmire.
Their fangs are adorned with gold caps, each strand of their manes meticulously styled with hair wax as their nose rings jingle with every excited breath.
A huge pig-headed creature spreads its arms and reclines in the center of the swamp, emitting waves of joyful howls.
Behold, everyone... This is the most cutting-edge creative art technique of our time!
He rolled around vigorously, panting and glowing with excitement while introducing his creation to the audience.
His mud-stained hands and body leave a trail of dark, filthy imprints on the clean floor. Its fence boards are coated with mud, mixed with horse dung, forming chaotic brown-black clumps.
A few crushed dandelion petals are embedded in the mud as well, like festering mold growing on skin. A half-formed, mud-covered pig's hoofprint boldly stamps a lower right corner, resembling a grandiose seal.
Do you see it, everyone? Destruction is creation! The void is the ultimate rebellion against absurdity! This is true modern art!
Absurd! This isn't even a scandal! Everyone, take a look at this clumsy handling of negative space, the ratio of sludge to wooden planks completely violates the golden ratio.
The smartly dressed pig-headed man forcefully pokes the mud slab with the tip of his hoof.
And, as for this so-called "brushstroke," it's nothing more than a hydrodynamic trail of rectal excrement. How can something like this even be called art?!
What ignorance. My lord Baron, are you still stuck in Angor's bathtub?
He stands up, pointing down at the muddy spot on the ground.
Behold the randomness of dripping mud, each stain is a debate between the void and existence.
Especially the radioactive cracks at the edge of the hoofprint, what a brilliant deconstruction of Seurat's pointillism!
Gentlemen! Can you hear the rotting leaves weeping in the mud? This foul, fishy, earthy smell... this viscous sensation of death...
A strangely dressed pig-headed man suddenly stood up, his whole body trembling with delight.
Look! That bubble, shaped like a frog egg in the upper left... it's spirituality being suffocated by material desires!
Ah... this bitter and salty taste must be a metaphor for the holy blood of religion!
...
The pig-headed men argue without end, their noisy squeals like a piece of polished metal constantly scraping against your eardrums.
Pickman... When can we leave this place?
Leave? Why would you leave? Can't you feel your inspiration surging, Avery?
Inspiration? I don't see any insight in the stains left behind by these pig-headed creatures rolling around in the dirt...
Ah-ha, Avery, Avery, you're wrong! What we're seeing is part of the art itself!
You... call this art? Their creations can't even compare to what we made back at the salon.
What are you talking about, Avery? Aren't we witnessing an art salon right now? This creative venture is no different from the art salons of the past, my friend.
What... did you say?!
You look at Pickman in shock. He ignores you, pushes through the crowd, and imitates those pig-headed creatures, scooping up mud from the ground.
The brilliance of art is everywhere; few can truly grasp it. The pig-headed gentlemen have their own way of understanding and that's perfectly fine. The world should look different through each person's eye, after all...
Pickman says this while applying sludge to every corner of the plaza in his unique way.
Exaggerated composition, chaotic lines, mad colors... A grand painting of a ghoul feast quickly emerges in the plaza.
Lifelike ghouls lean against the stone pillars of the plaza, sitting on the curved stone steps, feasting on painters at the center of the filth and its surrounding crowd.
There's no need to criticize everything, Avery. What an artist must do is find inspiration in all things!
Pickman spread his arms wide, admiring his own artwork.
Excellent argument, Mr. Pickman.
Applause erupts from the back of the square. An elegantly dressed elder slowly steps forward and bows to Pickman.
I am the butler of the city's royal residence. Now, on behalf of the king, I invite you and your friend to the royal residence as esteemed guest artists to attend the banquet.
Me? But the registration slots are already full...
We set the registration limit two spots short, so I've already corrected it and registered both you and your friend.
You have won this position, Mr. Pickman, and you truly deserve it.
Really? Really?! Did you hear that, Avery?
No! How is this possible?! His painting doesn't convey any avant-garde concepts!
The use of space and form is a complete mess! How could the king possibly enjoy such garbage?
It's neither realistic nor infused with any brilliant artistry; there's absolutely no value in discussing it further...
Ah, just as I once said... the art of this city has perished. The art of this world has perished...
This painting isn't even comparable to the garbage produced by classical schools with inferior craftsmanship...
What did you say?! You traitor to art! You vagabond of painting!
One painter charges at another painter while a pig-headed creature wrestles with another of its kind.
Soon, sounds of brawling erupt from the muck. Sludge spatters everywhere as the main figures and structures dissolve and vanish, adding a postmodern touch to the painting that transcended its time.
The butler of the royal residence ignores them, steps aside, and respectfully extends his arm to the path ahead.
If you please, esteemed guests, the king of the city is awaiting your arrival at the Ossuary Palace.
3. Sapient Animals, before the fight
97 linesAh! @3! O great king of Necrovia! Your body is as majestic as a royal palace! Your voice is as sweet as honey! Your...
Enough, enough, spare us your brazen display. His Majesty will not experience any thrill from your superficial flattery.
His Majesty possesses eyes as bright as the sun and a heart as pure as the full moon. He knows who the most trustworthy person by his side truly is...
Ah, my lords, both pillars of His Majesty, please do not argue over such trivial matters any longer.
The music has already started... The entire dance floor is waiting for you, my lord.
The rude noble is ushered forward. The dancer turns her head and beckons with her finger; the reserved noble sets down his glass, adjusts his elegant collar, and walks toward the dance floor with his hands behind his back.
What a wonderful banquet! Music! Music! Turn it up louder! Let the entire city hear our cheers!
O great king of Necrovia, come with us...
The king gently pats the dancer's cheek and waves goodbye to her. The disappointment on her face vanishes in an instant. Soon, her swaying figure returns to its dedicated dance floor.
The atmosphere of the dance floor becomes increasingly more intense as the music plays. Nobles, soldiers, painters, dancers... countless sapient creatures with beast heads fill the dance floor.
They dance together, merge, and devour each other. They do everything that sapient animals do.
The king sat on his grand throne, resting his chin on his hand and yawning out of boredom.
My goodness... This smell... What are they doing?
A royal dance, what else would they do?
Hey, Avery, look! The lively dance floor juxtaposed with the bored monarch, what an intriguing composition! I'm going to use this as the theme for my next painting...
Ah! Mr. Pickman, Mr. Avery! On behalf of this city, I welcome your arrival.
Guards, escort them to the main guest seats.
While you are talking, the housekeeper leans closer to his king and whispers a few words. The bored monarch's eyes light up immediately, scanning the crowd to pinpoint your whereabouts.
Main guest seats?! What status do these two individuals have to deserve the main guest seats?!
Hmph, two eloquent jesters... Alas, our poor king has been deceived by miscreants...
Ah, you two artists, I'll be waiting on the dancefloor after the feast...
Navigating through the web of whispers, filled with envy and flattery, you make your way past a throng of sticky bodies and savage faces to find your seats next to the king.
Boring party, huh?
How could this be... This place is...
Not bad, not bad, Mr. Monarch. I've seen too many gatherings like this. Dull, cliché, boring... They go against the true essence of art...
Hey! Pickman, you...
Hahaha... Mr. Pickman, raise your glass and drink this aperitif. It is the reward you deserve.
The monarch's taunting eyes sweep over the sycophantic figures in the dancehall.
Who among those on the dancefloor catches your interest or draws your disdain? The shrewd marquis or the clever performer?
Perhaps we could add another dish to our dinner tonight.
This... this...
Hehehe, hahaha! Your cluelessness is as charming as Pickman's clarity, Mr. Avery.
We always need to follow a certain etiquette when handling our affairs; kings of cities are no exception. I assure you, these fellows will not be served on our dining table.
I also don't want these filthy creatures ruining tonight's dishes, after all, that is the only thing I'm looking forward to this evening besides the two of you.
The Monarch talked about something that piqued their interest, sitting up a little straighter in their seat.
Today's ingredients come from a beast similar to us.
Rest assured, Mr. Avery. Although this city has an extraordinary pursuit of gourmet cuisine, we are very principled and would never resort to harming our own kind.
This ingredient, like us, has a splendid history, magnificent civilization, exceptional wisdom, and delicate meat.
Unfortunately, their dietary habits are completely different from our own. Humans always find reasons to battle and, in this war sparked by dietary differences, my army has stormed their royal court.
Our battle's victor has the right to bask in everything the defeated possesses. Survival of the fittest, it's one of the more interesting aspects of how that world operates.
The monarch smiles and gently claps his hands. Like a pebble lightly cast into a lake, gentle ripples carry the king's decree outward.
The beast-headed nobles no longer speak with grandeur, the snake-bodied dancers and beastman guards cease their dalliance. Wherever the ripples reach, all sounds belonging to this world come to a halt.
A line of well-dressed hyena servants streams out of the kitchen, placing one hundred large cauldrons on the king's enormous dining table.
My foolish subjects, my filthy guests...
The king rose from his throne, elatedly spreading his gem-adorned arms wide.
Power, love, conflict, creation... these wonderful words have worn me out. Fortunately, there are still things worth looking forward to in this world. Now, they have been served on this table.
Cheer for them, pray for them. Pour out all your passion, your desire, and enjoy them.
All rules and morals are mere illusions. In this world, only madness and joy are eternal!
The king's words fall over the crowd, soon bursting into a wave of fervent cheers. Over a hundred pots are simultaneously uncovered, releasing a rich aroma that blends intense spices with rotting meat and spreads throughout the garden.
This is?!
Dark red claws desperately extend out of the pot before you. Bite-marked ribs churn in thick broth.
A shriveled ghoul's head bobs in the cauldron, its hollow eyes fixed intently on you.
Mine! Everything in this pot is mine! Nobody can take it from me!
Hah, what a total disgrace... Hey! That's a reward bestowed upon me by the king! Back off!!
The beast-headed nobles let out excited snorts, eagerly rushing toward the nearest cauldron, swinging their massive dining forks like knights wielding lances.
Spearheads push aside rivals and pierce their targets' chests. Pieces of cooked cadaver are scooped from the pots and stuffed whole into slavering mouths.
Hurry up and eat, Avery! If you don't eat now, you won't get any!
Pickman, feasting heartily, extends a plate towards you. A ghoul's claw lies spread open in the center of the plate, as if it were an invitation from a dance partner.
Phew... Since I'm here anyway...
You take a deep breath, pick up the dark red claw, and hesitate before putting it in your mouth.
?!!
How is it, Avery? I didn't deceive you, did I?
You know what, Pickman... These dishes may be quirky, but they actually taste pretty good...
I've never tasted anything this delicious before...
You no longer savor the food as strenuously as you did before. Your chewing speed increases, as you can no longer afford to be polite. You drop the knife and fork in your grip and start tearing the food apart with both hands.
Hey! What are you doing?! This is the food the king prepared for us! Get away!
You angrily kick away the pig-headed creature approaching your pot, placing your body in front of the food. Like a ravenous beast, you grab a skull from the pot and shove it into your mouth.
Aha! Avery, I knew it, you're the only one in the entire academy who truly understands me! You're nothing like those boring conservatives!
I thought you would hesitate for a long time, but look at you now, devouring people with such delight!
You can discern madness in the beauty of this world... You have outstanding talent, Avery!
Pickman, if you keep rambling, what's in the pot is going to be my...
Wait, did you just say human flesh?
Isn't this the flesh of ghouls...?
You look up in shock. For a moment, the entire palace garden falls silent. Everyone stops eating to look directly at you.
The king puts down the fork in his hand, grinning as his gaze turns to you. It is as though he is watching an amusing performance about to reach its climax.
Ah, I thought you had woken up a long time ago... I wasn't wrong about you, Avery! You can always see the world through my eyes!!
It's really hard to believe, Avery! I thought that only I could live in such a world, but to my surprise... to my surprise...
Having a friend like you is something I never even dreamed of!
What do you mean...? What does the world look like in your eyes?
You're petrified in shock, looking up at him with a dazed expression.
Pickman is elated, stepping onto the dining table, spreading his arms wide...
Welcome, Avery! Welcome to the world seen through the eyes of the unappreciated painter, Pickman!
With Pickman's exuberant shout, you feel the texture of the food in your hand start to change. You look down...
!!!! Ugh...
A smooth human head is held in your hands, still bearing the bite marks from your gnawing. You scream and throw it far away; when you lift your head again, you feel an overwhelming dizziness.
Dull colors, bright colors, absurd colors, true colors... An array of shades converges before your eyes.
The real and illusory worlds merge together from their distorted, colorful seams; the light and shadow of different realms rush into your compact brain, the intense pain almost rending you to pieces.
Is it painful, Avery? Don't worry... It's the price a genius must bear...
You saw the truth, you saw the essence of this world... but what does it matter?
What is true? What is false? What is a ghoul? What is a human?
The boundaries of this world should indeed be blurred, Avery. Madness is the only truth in this world!It is the <color=#BA49ED>only</color> <color=#FF3300>truth</color> <color=#9CD2D8>of</color> <color=#E53FC5>art</color>!
Pickman's words are like a spell. In that chaos of colors, everything around you starts distorting and changing.
Maggots transform into beautiful dancers, beast-headed men become the court's royal ministers, and scenes of madness, reality, and dreams coalesce before your eyes.
The ruler on the throne indulges in unfettered mirth, clapping his hands and standing before you.
Pickman, you've found an interesting friend. Mr. Avery, my banquet will always welcome your arrival!
AAAAHHHHH!
You can no longer hold on, kicking the head at your feet and fleeing along the path under the shocked gazes of the court nobles.
4. Look, the Moon!, before the fight
77 linesKnock knock knock...
Huh? Sir, may I ask... Ah!
The hurried footsteps don't stop, even for a moment. You shove aside the two human guards blocking your way and burst out of the grand palace.
Huff... Huff... I need to get out... I need to get out of here...
You run to find a way out of the city, following a completely different path than the one you trod before.
Following your footsteps, everything around you changes. The world around you, once a painting, transforms into the city you are familiar with, the giant eye in the sky becoming a bright moon once more.
You watch in horror as the paint recedes like rain being washed away, revealing the truth of the world. Now, however, this truth only fills you with panic.
Ladies and gentlemen, my opinion on this painting remains unchanged. I believe it represents the most cutting-edge creative concept of today...
However, its approach to visual fundamentals is truly irresponsible and absurd.
Well, I have to reluctantly admit that compared to Pickman's expressionistic madness, your paintings at least have some admirable qualities...
Oh, sir, let's not talk about that guy anymore. His artwork is nothing short of a betrayal to humanity.
I agree! The use of symbolic imagery has clear logic and boundaries. Pickman's filthy expressions of monsters convey an artistic view that cannot be accepted by human civilization.
That's definitely not a human's depiction of a ghoul, it's that of a true ghoul peeping into the human world!
Oh, hey! Isn't that Mr. Avery? This year's most promising Art Academy freshman!
Mr. Avery, you were nowhere to be found after the art exhibition ended. Would you like to join our art salon?
The stench-filled plaza disappears. Four well-dressed painters sit in an exquisite gallery, engaging in lofty conversation, and one of the painters rises gracefully to wave at you.
Mr. Avery, what's going on? Why are you running around drenched in sweat...? Is this some kind of new art trend?
You ignore them, running straight ahead on the path you came from.
Oh, Mr. Avery! I heard you and Mr. Pickman went to the king's banquet... The palace's wine isn't as good as the one at my place, is it?
The tavern made of a stomach sac vanishes. In front of the pub, glowing with warm lights, the beautiful proprietress waves warmly at you.
She hands you a glass of wine. The clear and fragrant liquid swirling in the clean glass shimmers under the moonlight.
Sorry... I...
Ah, Mr. Avery, look how hard you've been running... Come in for a drink? Your drinking companions from last night have been waiting for you!
You recall those people with beastly heads and the wine that reeked of decay, causing your stomach to churn. With no strength left to spare for the tavern keeper, you continue running forward.
...
You've lost track of how long you've been running. The city is far behind you. The tall buildings that surrounded you have transformed into gravestones. You slow your pace, walking through the graveyard.
Soon, that oddly shaped villa appears before you again.
In front of that sign painted with various colors, Pickman's melancholic figure sits upon a tomb, gazing at the big, beautiful moon in the sky.
Your eyes. The moon. Which one should we trust... Avery, what do you think?
I don't want to discuss this with you... What on earth is going on here? I need an explanation, Pickman!
I went to your house, saw a painting, fell asleep... and then woke up in the world of your painting...
Ah, do you still believe you've entered the world inside my painting?
There is no realm within the painting, Avery. That painting merely granted you the same eyes as mine, a pair of eyes capable of seeing the truth of this world.
We've always, always been in the real world.
No, that's impossible! That world is fake... I couldn't have eaten... eaten...
Thinking about the things you consumed in the royal court and the lifelike head in your hands, you lean over the nearby grave and vomit violently.
Filthy alcohol. Bizarre goods. Talentless artists. Sapient animals in the palace. Cannibalistic banquets...
This is the world I live in. All of this makes me feel perplexed, yet it also feels... incredibly marvelous.
What is true? What is false? I don't know, Avery. No one can tell me.
Now that you've seen this part of my world for yourself... Can you tell me the answer, my friend?
Pickman sits crouched on the tombstone, resting his chin in his hands. His voice is remarkably calm.
You lift your gaze from the grave and meet his eyes, filled with confusion and curiosity.
The world we live in is real beyond any doubt, Pickman...
Ah... If I could be as resolute as you, perhaps I wouldn't have brought so much disaster to those around me, including myself.
Pickman lets out a soft sigh, his claw-like legs stretching out on the gravestone, his sharp teeth gleaming under the moonlight.
Pickman... you... Is this not a costume?
Don't worry, Avery. You're my best friend; I won't hurt you. I won't harm anyone else, either...
Another world, a truly mad and beautiful world, I have already been there. It is a city belonging to the King of Ghouls. It is far madder and far more real than where we live now.
Soon, I will join them... Only there can I find the art I truly seek. Only there can someone like me truly belong...
Madness and absurdity are the true essence of art, the true essence of this world... Avery, do you want to come with me?
I...
You stand up, muster your courage, and walk over to him.
Pickman, I finally understand where your artistic madness comes from.
The world in your eyes is different from ours. You don't belong to this world, but I am not like you... I don't have your talent. I'm just an ordinary person in this mediocre world...
So... I'm sorry, Pickman.
Hearing your words, Pickman grinned happily.
You are my best friend, Avery. I will support any decision you make!
There are still many people and things in this world that I'll miss... If I get the chance, can I visit you again, Avery?
I'm looking forward to that day. I'm eager to see what kind of pieces you'll bring me then, art that I could never reach in my lifetime...
You underestimate yourself, my friend. You haven't even realized your own potential... You and I, we are the same kind of person.
Pickman straightens up and gives you a radiant smile.
Well then, goodbye, Avery!
Farewell, Pickman.
...
The clock hand points to midnight.
You've forgotten how you walked through that cemetery, crossed the city streets, and returned to your own home.
You try to forget everything you experienced today. You know that's required for you to sleep soundly.
Well done, Avery. Forget those illusions. We have an important event to attend tomorrow...
It seems like all your strength has been drained, leaving you utterly exhausted and lying on the bed.
Truth, falsehood... stop thinking about these things. Send Pickman your blessings, Avery. You're not the same as him. You need to lie on the big bed of the real world and enjoy a peaceful sleep in the real world.
You pull the curtain open; the bright and clear moonlight shines on your face. You close your eyes, feeling at ease.
Hmph, the moonlight is beautiful. I'll definitely have a good night's sleep tonight...
Hey, look!
!!! Who?!!!
You startle in bed. When you open your eyes again, the entire world has turned a dark red, thick as blood.
You gaze at the sky. Where the moon should be, a blood-red, veiny eyeball is watching you.
We really are the same kind of person. Aren't we, Avery?