Chapter 59: Chapter 59

She looked toward the end of the man’s gaze, where "Snow Woman" was located, and Mia Redgrave was momentarily frozen in place.

"Now, let’s welcome the artist of ’Snow Woman’, whose ID is..." The host looked at the small script in his hand, hesitating as he spoke: "ID is Ms. French Fry?"

Mia’s ID has an artsy vibe, while the next ID seems like it was thought of during a meal.

Applause rose from the audience, but no one came on stage for a long time.

The host was also dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the audience and speaking again: "Is Ms. French Fry here?"

There was still no response.

Mia’s face once again displayed a confident smile; she must be afraid to come on stage, considering how poorly the painting was done. How could she dare to compete with me?

She was determined to win the Gold Prize of the Star Burning Cup.

"Has contestant Ms. French Fry arrived?"

For the third time, the host spoke, looking displeased, feeling as though he resembled a restaurant waiter.

A hoarse, unpleasant female voice came from the audience.

Upon hearing that voice, Ethan Sterling snapped back to reality and looked in the direction it came from.

Mia couldn’t help but glance toward the audience as well and was at a loss for words.

A person of unknown weight slowly shuffled from the audience toward the stage. She wore an out-of-place cotton coat, looking bulky as if just returned from the Arctic. Her long hair was casually tied, a black ghost mask covered her face, and she wore leather gloves, ensuring not an inch of skin was exposed to the air.

Ethan looked at the slowly moving Ms. French Fry among the audience, confusion flashing in his eyes.

The host was also dumbfounded until this Ms. French Fry stood on the stage like a sumo wrestler, standing next to him. Only then did he open his mouth with trembling lips: "You are Ms. French Fry?"

"Yes." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel★fire.net

This Ms. French Fry was Seraphina Redgrave herself.

She wanted to win the Gold Prize of the Star Burning Cup for the money but couldn’t let Ethan know, so she resorted to this method, dressing in a way that no one could recognize her.

She even deliberately changed her way of speaking; no one could possibly recognize her voice.

"Your outfit..." The host hesitated to comment.

"What’s wrong? Isn’t it about painting skills rather than who’s the most beautiful?" Seraphina spoke casually, standing next to "Snow Woman," and sneaked a glance in Ethan’s direction.

Similarly, Ethan was looking at her, and their eyes met.

Ethan’s gaze was deep, like a whirlpool, ready to pull someone in.

Ethan could never know that Ms. French Fry was actually her.

Seraphina thought to herself but turned her head to look at the host nonetheless.

The host, having been rebuked, awkwardly added, "Indeed, Ms. French Fry probably doesn’t want everyone to see her face."

It’s just because she isn’t as good-looking or as slim as her, hence the reluctance to come on stage openly.

Mia couldn’t help but want to sneer but held it back.

Switching focus, the host addressed Mia: "Miss Mia, why did you create this painting?"

Seeing the host’s question directed at herself, Mia immediately recited the answer she had prepared long ago: "Some people say I’m just a showpiece, all surface and no depth. But I want to say, roses will always bloom, even in the fading twilight, they can still dazzle brightly. I will also work hard to show everyone my extraordinary qualities."

Her words, firm and resonant, added considerable value to a somewhat lackluster painting.

After her speech, some fans in the audience couldn’t hold back their approval.

Mia looked at Ethan, yet only saw his handsome but expressionless face, which made her feel unsatisfied.

"Miss Mia is truly ambitious," the host couldn’t help but praise, then turned toward Seraphina but was surprised into a stammer by her attire: "So, um, Ms. French Fry, and you?"

Seraphina stated plainly.

The host didn’t expect Seraphina to be so straightforward, which momentarily rendered his brain completely blank, leaving him speechless.

This incident marked the lowest point in his professional career.

The audience fell into silence.

Hearing Seraphina’s words, Mia couldn’t help but sneer, thinking how common and petty the mindset was.

After a long while, the host regained his composure and hesitated to speak again, fearing Seraphina might again utter something shocking: "Have the judges reached a decision yet?"

Let this end quickly, please.

"Oh, it’s hard to let go of either; one depicts skilled strokes, the other holds Elder Vaughn’s essence." The masters were still unsure what to do.

One master looked at Seraphina, uncertainly speaking: "Your painting style closely resembles Elder Vaughn’s, but...?"

"Elder Vaughn taught me my skills."

Seraphina said confidently.

"Oh my god!" The masters immediately stood up in excitement, "Where is Elder Vaughn now? Could she be invited out of seclusion again?"

Elder Vaughn is indeed a pillar of the art world!

"Elder Vaughn doesn’t wish to face worldly disturbances and has truly gone into seclusion," Seraphina declared emotionlessly.

Elder Vaughn could no longer paint and didn’t want to appear before the public anymore.

With these words, the audience gradually quieted down.

Elder Vaughn had always had her principles; her refusal to face the public meant no one could persuade her.

Everyone’s eyes converged on this sudden intruder, Ms. French Fry. Jonathan Redgrave hesitated but said: "Mia, forget it, Elder Vaughn’s true disciple is on the stage; how could you possibly compete with her?"

Upon hearing this, Mia smiled faintly and said: "Indeed, how could I compete with a disciple of Elder Vaughn? After all, since the Star Burning Cup was established by Elder Vaughn, everything surely aligns with her standards."

Mia’s rhetoric was cleverly crafted, seemingly harmless but subtly accusing Seraphina of using her status and mimicry to overpower others.

Seraphina didn’t even glance at Mia, merely responded coolly: "Miss Redgrave truly paints well, yet it’s surprising you don’t even know the basics of this line of work."

"How can you speak like that?" Mia felt displeased but quickly feigned a pitiful demeanor, "Even if I haven’t studied under a master, does being a master’s disciple allow one to act recklessly?"

This speech aimed to label Seraphina as arrogant.

Usually, this tactic worked like a charm, but now, with all the art masters seated below, how could they not discern the painting’s differences?

"This contestant may carry Elder Vaughn’s essence, but her style vastly differs from Elder Vaughn’s, and the core she expresses is not what Elder Vaughn typically conveys." A master looked at Mia uncomfortably: "Miss Redgrave, don’t you even know that?"

If "Snow Woman" were merely an imitation, would they have discussed it at such length?

Realizing her mistake, Mia was at a loss for words, her earlier confidence diminished.

"Elder Vaughn taught me her entire craft, and I have the utmost respect for her. If I dared to submit ’Snow Woman’ to the Star Burning Cup, it’s because I have the skills to back it up." Seraphina defiantly raised her chin, "Miss Redgrave, if you’re unaware of this field’s depth, it’s best to speak less."

Mia was so infuriated that she didn’t know what to say, her eyes glaring at Seraphina as if they would shoot fire.

The masters, all being art enthusiasts, were too engrossed in the painting to care about the squabble on stage between the two girls.

One master stood up, hesitatingly speaking: "This, um, Ms. French Fry, does your painting depict depression?"

The name was indeed challenging to articulate.

Perhaps next time, a real-name policy should be implemented for the contest.