“What’s your intention in having me drawn?”

I looked at the White-Robed Scholar.

“Hey, White-Robed Emperor.”

“……”

“You can’t go around suspecting malice in every word someone says. Listen carefully. It’s not like I need your portrait. The entire Martial Alliance has already seen you—I could draw it with my eyes closed.”

“That’s true.”

“He’s an exceptional painter. The piece won’t have a background. Just a scholar in clean white robes holding a folding fan. The title will be White-Robed Emperor. And in the blank space, I’ll include the poem I recited. So then—what kind of painting would that be?”