Cozy Isekai Craftsman, ch 13

Joseph struggled to contain his excitement as he gazed at the painting, his heart racing with anticipation. He wasn't afraid of encountering a ghostly figure within its frame; in fact, he was eager to experience whatever otherworldly phenomena the piece had to offer. Despite his ignorance of the painting's technicalities, he was determined to stay respectful and not let his enthusiasm get the best of him.

"I cannot believe that a stranger has been allowed to trespass within my walls," the man bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the room. "My progeny have forsaken me, leaving me to deal with this burglar on my own."

Joseph shuddered at the man's ominous words, his heart racing with excitement at the thought of what might happen next. He said, "Excuse me, sir. I don't know if you're done speaking, but I'm not a burglar. I'm just your average Joe."

The man in the painting glared at him and said, "You're not average at all. I saw you use your power to clean this entire room. I don't know what kind of sorcery that is. Maybe it's one of the dark arts, or you're some sort of demon."

Joe shook his head and replied, "No, I wish. What I mean is, I don't wish to be a demon. I just thought it'd be interesting to see one. Anyway, my name is Joseph Johnson. I think we got off on the wrong foot. May I ask what your name is?"

The man in the painting leaned against the chair inside the painting, contemplating. He tapped his finger on the chair as if it were real, and said, "I suppose it doesn’t hurt to go through formalities. I shall not give you my last name because you don't deserve it. My name, which you can call me by, is Thomas."

Mann in the painting spoke in a slightly formal tone, as if he belonged to a different age. Joe said, "Sir Thomas, my name again is Joseph Johnson. I’m not a burglar. In fact, I spoke to Emily, who runs a nearby forge. She said her family owned this house and that I could stay here as long as I cleaned it up."

The man in the painting said, "Oh really? Emily, the little girl with her sister Ava? How would a five-year-old be able to give you the right to stay here?"

Joe blinked and replied, "I'm twenty-five years old. No, I thought they were in their twenties. How long has it been since you saw somebody here?"

The man in the painting looked shocked and sat down in the chair. He muttered a couple of things to himself and seemed a bit distressed. Finally, he addressed Joe and asked, "What year is it?"

That was a good question. Joe shook his head and said, "Honestly, I don't know. I'm new to this part of the country and this world for a couple of days."

The man in the painting, Thomas, stared at him, perplexed. He said, "You're from another plane of existence?"

Joe seemed excited that someone finally got it. He said, "Yes, exactly. I'm from a different plane of existence. I was brought here by the Goddess Quinn just to live a normal life."

Thomas seemed surprised at that. He said, "Ah, I see. You have the boon of a goddess, and a high-ranking one at that. Not only that, she is one of the good ones."

Joe said, "Yeah, I agree. So, you believe me?"

Mentioning the goddess's name seemed to have a soothing effect on Thomas, at least momentarily. He sprang up from his chair, straightening his posture and clasping his hands behind his back in a show of composure. "It takes a special kind of fool to invoke the name of a deity in a falsehood," he declared, his tone firm but measured. "But I sense that you're no such fool. You wouldn't dare risk the wrath of the gods with such an act of blasphemy."

Joe let out a sigh of relief. "Well, thank you for believing in me. And look, I'm not trying to intrude or anything. I didn't know that you even existed. Did Ava and Emily know?"

The painting looked a bit embarrassed and looked away for a second before changing the subject. "Regardless of what they're saying, this is my house. It belongs to my family. This place first belonged to me. And I have given it to my progeny ever since."

Joe asked, "For how many generations have you been here?"

Thomas counted to himself, thinking back on it. Then he said, "At least ten generations, although after Emily and Ava's great, great, great, great grandfather, I lost count. Time is fickle inside of this painting."

Joe found himself a stool and sat down, ever the eager student about the life of a magical painting man. "So, you don't have a problem with me staying here?"

Thomas chuckled. "Problem? Of course, I have a problem. You are a man, a human who is living inside of my house, and you are not properly married to either Emily or Ava. So, I refuse."

Joe said hesitantly. "But, you give the rights to your children and their children's children and so on and so forth. On that, Emily's words supersede yours by law."

Thomas frowned. "Maybe by law, but by fact, this place is mine. And if you try to stay here, I will make sure that I will haunt you."

Joe had a feeling. He started walking to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. "You know if you were a ghost, like a spirit flying around and could phase yourself through walls, I would be pretty scared right now. And I would take you for your word."

He closed the door behind him, stood in the hallway, counted to ten, and then opened the door again. He walked in front of the painting, and Thomas did not look happy.

"Well?" Joe asked.

Thomas was fuming, but he relented. "You may not be a robber, but you sure are a scoundrel.."

Joe laughed. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry. It seems like you can't leave your painting."

Thomas crumbled. "Don't rub it in. And don't threaten to throw me out just because you caught the whimsy of one of my granddaughters."

Joe said, "I didn't catch her whimsy at all. She's letting me stay here because I helped her with one of the problems she made, and so that's why I'm here. I promise as long as I'm here that I won't bother you. Or at least, I'll do my best not to."

Despite Joe's words, Thomas did not buy it. "No. Unless you marry one of my granddaughters and become a part of this household, I will never acknowledge you. And just because I can't leave this room physically doesn't mean I can't make a lot of noise. I know how far my voice can carry in this house. Trust me on that, boy. So if you ever try to sleep in here, I will make sure you will never get a good night's sleep."

Joe did not know what to say.

Thomas strode over to the side of the painting, disappearing from view as if he was retreating to another room. Joe cautiously approached the canvas, peering into the seemingly empty space where the man had vanished. Suddenly, he heard a loud grunting noise, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. Joe's curiosity piqued, he watched in amazement as Thomas wheeled in an enormous, ancient piano, its polished wood gleaming in the dim light.

Without warning, Thomas launched into a frenzied performance, pounding out a Baroque melody with such force and intensity that Joe thought his ears might burst. Joe clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the deafening noise.

But Thomas seemed unfazed, his fingers dancing across the keys with reckless abandon. Between notes, he bellowed at Joe over the din of the piano, his voice strained but cheerful. "Don't mind me, boy," he shouted. "As a painting, I never tire of playing the piano. I could play all night, every night, forever!"

Joe winced as the notes continued to assault his eardrums, pleading with Thomas to stop. "Please," he cried. "Please, please stop!"

Thomas did, and he said, "Do you get it? No? You are in my house. These are my rules. I don't care if you've cleaned everything. That makes you no better than a maid. Maids need sleep too, you know.”

Joe sighed. He tried again, “Listen, I would really like to live here. It's a beautiful place, and I'm pretty sure I can make it nearly as good as it used to be, if not better."

With a resounding crash, Thomas slammed his hand down on the keys once more, cutting Joe off mid-sentence. "No means no," he declared, his tone final. "Any further words from you will fall on deaf ears."

And with that, Thomas resumed his frenzied playing, hammering away at the piano with a manic energy that made Joe's headache. Despite his best efforts, the sound of the piano followed him even as he left the room, the notes echoing through the halls with a deafening intensity.

Joe wracked his brain, trying to think of anything that might muffle the sound. He searched through his bag of tools, hoping to find something - anything - that could absorb the noise. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find a single object with the power to dampen the relentless pounding of the keys.

He groaned in frustration, knowing that he couldn't escape the music for long. Thomas was an incredibly talented pianist, and Joe had to admit that the melody was good. But the constant clashing of the keys was enough to make anyone's head spin.

As Joe retreated to the bedroom, his eyes fell on the tarnished locket resting on the dresser. With a flicker of curiosity, he reached for one of his trusty pebbles and started polishing it until it shone like a diamond. And that's when he saw it - the locket was hollow inside. It was meant to hold something precious, maybe a miniature painting of a loved one, but it was vacant.

A brilliant idea flashed in Joe's mind, and he fished out the soul stone from his pocket. It was the same one that had been used to trap the mighty Fire Spirit, a feat that only the most powerful sorcerers could pull off. Joe didn't know much about sorcery, but he had a hunch.

With trembling hands, he cradled the locket in one palm and the soul stone in the other. As he concentrated on the stone, mysterious inscriptions appeared before his eyes. To his surprise, there weren't many question marks, considering the stone's unfathomable powers. However, he could access a couple of the stone's properties, and that sent his heart racing with anticipation.

One of them said "Contain Soul +100."

"Whoa," Joe said to himself. He had never seen a plus number for any of the properties that high. But the highest he had seen was twenty. He didn't even realize they could go up to one hundred.

He saw another property that said "Soul Imprisonment +93."

Joe felt lost in a sea of uncertainty, not knowing whether to rejoice or lament the soul stone's true potential. Imprisoning a soul was not something he felt comfortable with, especially if it meant disrespecting the memory of Ava and Emily's ancestors. Thomas had been right all along, despite his old-fashioned ways.

As he looked around the room, Joe realized that he was only a guest in this house, regardless of how many hours he spent scrubbing the floors and dusting the shelves. This was not his home, and he had no right to tamper with its core essence.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to win Thomas over, Joe reasoned with himself. He grabbed the soul stone, and his fingers trembled with excitement and apprehension as he began transferring the properties to the crystal.

Despite his efforts, he could only transfer fifty points of the containment property, which seemed like a substantial number to him. With a determined stride, he walked back to the office, ignoring the thumping music that echoed in his ears.

He pushed the door open, his eyes locking with Thomas's, who was busy tapping his feet to the beat of the music. Joe's heart skipped a beat, wondering if he had made the right decision.

He yelled, "Excuse me, excuse me!"

Thomas kept banging on the piano in open defiance. He clearly knew that Joe was there. Joe decided to play the man's game and sat on a nearby couch, putting his feet against the ottoman. He held the locket up in clear vision for a clear line of sight for Thomas to save the walk.

Thomas's fingers moved over the ivory keys with fluid grace, as though daring Joe to interrupt his impromptu piano session. Joe didn't want to stoop to his level, but he couldn't resist the challenge either.

Without a word, he plopped down on the couch, propped his feet on the ottoman, and pulled out the locket from his pocket. He held it up to the light, admiring how the copper chain glimmered in the red-hued sunrays that poured through the window. The twin suns dipped behind the horizon, and now the moon illuminated the night.

Thomas shot him a few sidelong glances, but he didn't falter in his playing. Joe could feel the man's eyes drilling holes into his back, but he refused to let it bother him.

As the melody of the current song faded into silence, Thomas paused for a brief moment, as if considering his next move. Joe held his breath, wondering if the man would acknowledge him at all.

To his surprise, Thomas's eyes flickered to the locket in Joe's hand, and he gave a small nod of approval. It wasn't a smile or a hug, but it was a start. Joe felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him, knowing that he had earned a tiny bit of respect from the proud old man.

Finally, Thomas stopped playing. He lashed out in an exasperated sigh, demanding the painting, even needing to breathe. "What in the blazes are you doing, boy? Are you a crazy person? Because if you are, that just gives me another reason why you shouldn't be here."

Joe chose his words carefully, thanking the goddess Quinn that the music had finally stopped. His ears were literally vibrating, even though the music was not playing anymore.

He said to Thomas, "Sir, I propose to you a deal."

Thomas snorted. He said, "I will not make deals with someone of your ilk, not unless you're married to my bloodline. This conversation is not worth having."

He turned to play the piano again.

But then Joe said, "Aren't you curious what I'm holding in my hand?"

Thomas froze and slowly turned back to Joe. There was a great deal of distance between them, so even though Thomas leaned forward to see what was in Joe's hand, he couldn't.

Thomas said, "If you're telling me that's some sort of enchanted item, then you can't scare me. You could try to destroy my painting, and you might succeed, but I will curse you for the rest of your days."

Joe was caught off guard. He didn't understand how the magic of paintings worked, but he believed Thomas. Joe said, "I don't know why you're being so confrontational about this. However, my deal has nothing to do with a threat. In fact, I think I can make your life a little bit better."

Thomas sat down in his chair, and he seemed a bit more patient. He said, "Go on."

Joe got up and, while still holding the locket in front of them, he walked forward until the locket hung, swaying right in front of the painting.

Thomas leaned forward to get a good look at the locket. He cocked his head to the side. He said, "That was Ava's mother's before she disappeared with her husband.”

Joe said, "I didn't know that, but it was in the master bedroom." Thomas's expression seemed to soften, and there was a sadness on his face. Clearly, whatever happened to Ava and Emily's mother and father pained them, including the man and the painting.

Thomas said, "She was like you, an outsider. My grandson, her husband, was a fool and fell for her at first sight. She had turned him down several times, but he was persistent. And she finally caved in." His voice grew faint to let him speak.

And then Joe said, "When was the last time you left this house?"

Thomas looked away from the locket. He said, "What kind of question is that?" His voice grew serious, stern, and offended.

Joe shook his head. He said, "This is an important question I'm asking you. When was the last time you left this house?"

Thomas looked off at something inside the painting that Joe could not see, it was away from the frame.

Thomas closed his eyes and his face scrunched up in an expression of pain and memory. There was a long silent moment before Thomas opened his eyes and exhaled. He said, "Too long. I don't remember. I've watched them all go, you know. Everyone leaves. Everyone dies. No one stays."

Joe thought about it for a little bit longer and then said, "You don't have to stay. You can leave, too."

Thomas looked up and smiled and said, "You're a good liar, boy."

Joe chuckled. He said, "Actually, I'm not. This is what I can offer you. I'm pretty certain that I can transfer you from your painting into this locket."

As Joe delivered the news, Thomas blinked, his eyes betraying a mix of emotions that played out like a flickering film. Hope, anger, and resentment danced across his face, like shadows on a wall. Joe let him stew in silence, relishing in the tension that hung heavy in the air. The soft glow of the moonlight spilled into the room, casting an ethereal light that bathed Thomas in a new radiance. Joe noticed for the first time just how handsome Thomas was, with a rugged charm that defied his age. He couldn't be much older than his mid-forties, despite his weathered appearance.

As Thomas absorbed the news, Joe couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like for him. Watching generations of people come and go, born into the world and eventually leaving his presence. It was a bittersweet cycle that must have been both beautiful and painful to witness. But Thomas had always been alone, trapped in the never-ending prison of time.

Joe said, 'If you want it, I can transfer you in here. However, it's not a trap. You won't be imprisoned here like you were with your painting. If you want to leave, to go back into your painting, I can do that. And if there is another method, or another item which I can transfer you to, and it's within my capabilities, I will do as you ask.'"

As Thomas blinked back tears, a determined glint flickered in his eyes. He stood up, adjusting his collar and jacket with a practiced hand, his chest swelling with pride and strength. He looked every bit the patriarch of the family, a regal figure with an air of authority. Twisting his monocle, he fixed his gaze on Joe.

"Well, boy," he said, his voice heavy with expectation. "Let's see if you're worth your weight in salt."

Joe couldn't help but grin as he placed his hand on the painting. A small window popped up, displaying the words "Enchanted Painting" in bold letters. A myriad of properties and attributes appeared, most of them shrouded in mystery with question marks obscuring their names. But at the very bottom, in bold letters that seemed to glow with a golden light, was the name "Patriarch Thomas."

Thomas leaned forward and asked, "Will it be painful?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't think so."

Thomas leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Without another word, Joe transferred Thomas into the locket. The next instant, Thomas disappeared from the painting, his form now contained within the tiny locket that Joe held in his hand.

Suddenly, Thomas let out a burst of laughter that shook the small space around them, wild and raucous and filled with a mixture of emotions that made Joe's heart swell with wonder. It was the most incredible laugh he had ever heard, filled with both joy and sorrow, pain and happiness, all mingling together in a perfect cacophony.

Joe watched in amazement as Thomas jumped up and down inside the locket, his movements confined but filled with an exuberance that seemed to transcend the small space around him. For what felt like an eternity, they remained there in silence, Joe marveling at the magic that had brought them together, and Thomas reveling in his newfound freedom. It might have been five or six minutes, but to Joe, it felt like an eternity.

And then finally, Thomas righted himself and said, "Take me outside."

Moving carefully down the stairs in the darkness, Joe emerged outside into the night air. The moon was not full, but it was incredibly bright, casting a soft glow across the landscape. From this vantage point, he could see the harbor down the hill, the sea opening up before him in a vast expanse of glittering waves. The moonlight reflected across the surface of the ocean, painting it in hues of silver and blue.

It was a beautiful sight, one that Joe had appreciated the night before and now, even more so. Holding the locket up for the man to see, he watched as Thomas’ tears began to flow down his cheeks, long and silent weeping that seemed to come from a place of deep pain and sorrow. It was the cry of a man who had bottled up decades, perhaps even centuries, of anguish and hurt, finally released in a single moment of catharsis.

With a steady hand, Joe turned the locket up to the man, allowing him to see Thomas inside. And in that moment, all of the pain and hurt in Thomas seemed to disappear, replaced by a glimmer of hope and joy that shone in the man's eyes. It was a small moment, but one that Joe knew he would never forget, a moment of healing and redemption that had been a long time coming.

Thomas wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and looked up at Joe, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, boy," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "You are more than welcome to stay in my house as a guest."

Joe's heart swelled with joy at the words. He had done it. He hadn't approached the man out of a selfish desire to spend a night in the lavish mansion, but because he truly wanted to help. He knew what it was like to feel alone and isolated, having shut himself off from the world when he was battling cancer. He hadn't wanted to burden anyone with his illness, even though they had offered to help. But now he realized that pushing people away had been a mistake, even if it was done with the best of intentions.

As Thomas's words sunk in, Joe felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had made a connection with someone, and it felt good. He smiled at Thomas, feeling a sense of kinship with the older man. They were both survivors in their own right, battling different demons but coming out on the other side with a newfound appreciation for the value of human connection.

Joe said, "Not a problem, and thank you, sir, for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home. I'll do my utmost to try to live up to your standards."

Thomas sniffed with that arrogant grin of his again. "You know, this thing is pretty cramped. For a sorcerer, you're not too shabby, but I do expect to have better accommodations in the near future."

Joe said, "You got it, sir. I'll do my best to find you something better and maybe even more mobile. Would you like to stay in the locket, or would you like me to put you back into the painting?"

Thomas shook his head. "Please, never the painting again. Once you see the same room for over one thousand years, the last thing you want to do is be in there. There's nothing in this locket but me, and even though it's pretty cramped, I never want to see the inside of that painting again."

Joe said, "Okay, then, well, maybe we'll find an artist to paint you a more spacious and better painting, maybe with beautiful women."

Thomas's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, you truly are a man after all."

Joe didn't know how to take that. It was a little sexist, but he gave Thomas the benefit of the doubt. After all, Thomas was at least one thousand years old, and his culture was of a different time.

He said, "Okay, now that you're in the locket, let's go see Ava."