Surviving as a Cult Leader in Another World (On Pause)

In Durgien, there was an organization called the Artists Guild.
As the name suggested, it was an association formed by artists.
"It's a group formed by artists with artistic talent and the nobles who sponsor them. Their influence is quite significant in Durgien. They generate a lot of revenue."
The artists of Durgien were famous throughout the kingdom.
It was even seriously said that the artworks they sold were a specialty product of the Durgien region.
"Why would such people oppose the abolishment of the Grand Cathedral's entrance fee?"
Artists and the Grand Cathedral.
Was there any connection?
Archbishop Archibald, who was having a cup of tea for breakfast, looked at me after I asked the question.
His gaze was quite sharp.
"Why do you think that is? Tell me your thoughts."
Was this some kind of test?
Perhaps he thought I wouldn't know the reason.
I was quite underestimated.
"Yesterday, the guards not only demanded an entrance fee from me but also cautioned me about proper attire. I suppose it means there's a dress code for entering the Grand Cathedral."
People liked to climb to the seemingly superior position of the top dog. What if the underdogs try to climb the ladder?
Humans are quick to kick them down.
I wondered if the Grand Cathedral wasn't a 'gathering place' for people who could afford the expensive entrance fee and enjoy sophisticated hobbies.
Wasn't it a place where everyone dressed elegantly and enjoyed conversations like, "The recently published thesis-" or "The recently painted artwork-"?
If the entrance fee was abolished and beggars and vagrants were allowed to enter freely, it wouldn't be welcomed by the artists who were enjoying their intellectual entertainment.
"Am I wrong?"
Archbishop Archibald nodded at my question.
"You're right. You've grasped a lot in just one day. Artists are a difficult bunch. They contributed greatly to the construction of the Grand Cathedral. I can't ignore their opinions."
I thought it was absurd.
The church wasn't some kind of entertainment venue.
"I'll handle it. But in return, I want to make a condition this time. If I succeed in resolving this matter, please appoint me as the priest of the Agarphe territory. And please dispatch the Holy Knights to the Agarphe territory, along with one of the Six Knights."
The reason I came to see Medici Archibald was to request the dispatch of troops. Archbishop Archibald stroked his short beard and nodded.
"Well, that's within my authority. Even that fiery Count Doban wouldn't object if you were the newly appointed priest. But the Artists Guild is not easy to deal with. They are not very obedient to the words of the Bible."
Archbishop Archibald asked as if he was genuinely curious.
How could I, a wooden plaque monk, deal with artists who wouldn't even listen to biblical teachings?
It was quite amusing.
"Actually, I'm an artist myself. Just as a snake knows the way of a snake, wouldn't I know best how to persuade artists?"
I was the man who wrote the masterpiece "The Village of the Back Alley Nymph".
If I officially started selling it, it would easily surpass Lust's 'Way of the Beast'.
Everyone would come to me for autographs!
They would say that the specialty product of Durgien was my book, Hyde's book!
Artists would come to believe in my words and my will.
A trendsetter, you could say?
"Leave the artists' work to the artist."
"Oh ho-."
I immediately left the Archibald mansion. As I stepped out of the unusually large and luxurious mansion, I felt a sense of relief.
Milione Archibald followed me out.
"Why are you following me?"
"I don't want to stay in the mansion."
I see.
She said that, but she must have wanted to see Hyde, the artist, move the artists with his masterpiece, "The Village of the Back Alley Nymph".
"Pay the entrance fee."
The Grand Cathedral was still collecting entrance fees as usual.
It was truly infuriating.
I paid two precious silver coins and entered the Grand Cathedral, and Milione Archibald followed me quite obediently.

This girl was perfect if she just kept her mouth shut.
I entered the Grand Cathedral and looked around.
The interior was as magnificent as the exterior of the building.
The marble floor was sparkling, the windows were decorated with beautiful mosaics, and various statues were beautifully displayed.
"This is-."
"It's the Pietà. A statue made by the artist Michelangelo when he was about your age. He was twenty-four when he created this."
Indeed-.
The statue of the Savior, taken down from the cross and held in his mother's arms, was beautiful. He made this at twenty-four?
It wasn't that surprising.
I also completed the world-class masterpiece "The Village of the Back Alley Nymph" in my early twenties. With that in mind, I looked at the murals and sculptures displayed throughout the Grand Cathedral.
"Indeed, it's worth the entrance fee."
If this place were an art gallery or a concert hall instead of a church, two silver coins wouldn't be too expensive.
I even thought it would be nice to display the first draft of my masterpiece, Back Alley Nymph, in this place.
But this was a church.
"It's still wrong to charge an entrance fee."
As I was thinking this and igniting the flames of the Holy Spirit with a sense of justice in my heart, I heard someone exclaim in surprise.
"Look over there. Isn't that the wild Milione, back in Florence!"
"Oh my, I thought it would be quiet for a month, but it's going to be noisy again."
"Her face is so beautiful that it can't be captured even in a painting."
Someone was badmouthing Milione.
I turned my head and saw men wearing feathered hats gathered in groups.
Judging from the paint on their hands and their elegant cloaks, they were probably members of the Artists Guild.
"Are you members of the Artists Guild?"
"That's right. I am Michelangelo, the president of the Artists Guild. Who are you?"
The artist Michelangelo?
The genius artist who painted the Creation on the ceiling and sculpted this Pietà? Indeed, he was a thin man with a long beard.
He looked like an artist.
His appearance resembled Vincent van Gogh's self-portrait.
Was this the face of an artist?
I was thrilled to meet such a great artist like myself and extended my hand to the man.
"I am Hyde, a wooden plaque monk from the Agarphe territory."
"A wooden plaque monk?"
Rustle-
The men blatantly scanned me from head to toe. Michelangelo also scanned me up and down without taking my hand and even warned, "I don't give autographs easily, so you should know that."
What a snob.
He had an artistic temperament.
"I am the son-in-law of Count Agarphe and the husband of Psyche Agarphe."
When I added that, the artists' expressions changed dramatically, and even Michelangelo gasped in surprise.
"That Psyche? The kind and beautiful Psyche, like an angel? Oh my, I've heard the rumors. Hyde, so you're the man! It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Michelangelo grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously.
I felt like we would get along well.
Painting, sculpture, and writing.
The genres were different, but artists had a way of connecting. I felt a good start and said to the artists,
"The reason I came here is none other than the entrance fee for this Grand Cathedral. Isn't it strange that a church, which should be open to everyone, charges an entrance fee?"
"You think so? I, Michelangelo, don't think so. This church is a work of art before it is a church. It generates a good income, doesn't it? What would the vagrants understand even if they saw our art?"
"Exactly! We'd be lucky if they didn't steal or tear the paintings!"
"We're protecting the Grand Cathedral. It would surely become a mess!"
The artists' arguments made sense.
But I felt there was room for persuasion.
They were all intellectuals, so they would understand if I explained it to them.
"As an artist myself, I understand your feelings. However-."
"Hyde of Agarphe, you're an artist too?"
Michelangelo interrupted me.
I could feel his interest in me.
"That's right. I write books."
"Books! Indeed. Have you read the recently published 'Way of the Beast'? I've never seen such a magnificent work in my life. Centimeters, meters, if we could introduce this to architecture-."
"The newly released 'The Non-Virgin' was also amazing! The protagonist Cathy's actions made me feel excited. I might even have a second child soon!"
"The author must be a genius."
The artists were praising the Way of the Beast.
In my opinion, their ability to discern masterpieces was lacking. Well, what could you expect from the level of artists in this primitive medieval era?
I thought I should educate and enlighten them.
That was my role.
"Something like the Way of the Beast is garbage that can't even be called a book. True art is written right here in 'The Village of the Back Alley Nymph'. And I am the author."
"Oh, is that so? Why don't you read it to everyone! A book written by the man who married Lady Psyche. I'm very intrigued!"
As Michelangelo exclaimed, the surrounding people also voiced their expectations, saying, "Read it!" or "I'm curious."
People started to gather one by one, and I took out the copies of "The Village of the Back Alley Nymph" that I had brought with me, anticipating this.
They were the books that Psyche had personally printed for me.
"Alright, then I'll read it. The title is 'The Village of the Back Alley Nymph'. I originally intended the target audience to be children around the age of 10-."
The interior of the Grand Cathedral became eerily quiet.
I started reading from the beginning.
The beginning-.
The story of the nymph Oinoe, who suddenly falls into a strange world and struggles, but strives to maintain her innocence.
The part I put the most effort into.
If people listened to this first part for just five minutes, they would be moved to tears by my artistic sense.
"Leonardo, didn't you say you had an appointment for lunch today?"
"Yeah, I'm getting hungry."
"I'm sleepy."
But as I saw people leaving one by one, I felt puzzled.
What was going on?
"Where is everyone going?"
I asked.
Michelangelo, who had introduced himself as the president of the Artists Guild, looked at me, frowned, and spat at my book.
"You call yourself an artist after writing such low-grade gossip? Fakes like you are insulting true artists like us. Don't ever call yourself an artist again!"
"Yeah! You're not an artist! No, this is not the time! Let's all beat him up! So he can't write such horrible things again!"
"Hey, you! Status window? Status windoooow!? I don't know what that is, but something so strange can't be literature! Literature is supposed to be elegant!"
"You blasphemer of art!"
People were swarming towards me-.
Their expressions were serious, and they seemed genuinely angry.
I blasphemed art?
Nonsense!
I was the true artist!
These uncultured medieval barbarians couldn't possibly understand my high standards! Yes, my novel was clearly too sophisticated for them to understand!
"Take his book! Burn it! Let's use it as kindling!"
"He's running away! Chase him! Beat him up!"
But I had to escape from the angry barbarians for now.
Milione burst into laughter, saying, "This is hilarious! Kyahaha!"
Soon, everyone started laughing, saying, "Yeah! Get lost! Get out!" or "Look at him run! He must be faking being Psyche's husband too!"
Everyone was laughing at me.
Only when I hid in the restroom of the Grand Cathedral could I no longer hear their laughter.
"You ignorant bastards. You uncivilized medieval people who don't even know what gravity or computers are, what do you know about art? What do you know!"
Then what was art?
Was it art just because you chipped away at a stone and made it look like a human?
Was it art just because you painted your face with paint?
"Art is a shock that changes the world."
I'll show you what real art is.