"Grandma..."
The young man's gaze searched the painting for a while.
Soon, his eyes lit up.
He'd found it.
After all, he'd stared at this painting for a long time last night.
He already knew exactly where the monster was.
"Look here."
The young man pointed without touching the painting.
"Have you seen this before?"
"Ah, where?"
The old woman bent down and leaned closer to the painting.
"Here."
The young man crouched down. "Do you see it?"
"The thatched cottage, and this figure with his back to us."
"There's someone playing a zither inside the house, too."
"What?!"
The old woman's eyes widened. "I see it."
"This..."
The old woman unconsciously reached out to rub the scene before her.
"Grandma."
The young man stopped her. "Don't touch it."
He was worried she might smudge the ink. If that affected the painting, he wouldn't even know where to cry.
"Oh, right."
The old woman curled her fingers back.
Her face showed both surprise and confusion.
"That's strange..."
"I don't think I saw any of this before..."
"Was it always there?"
The old woman looked at the young man.
"I don't know."
The young man shook his head. "A friend of mine noticed it and pointed it out to me."
"I was surprised, too."
"I've looked at this painting so many times, but if my friend hadn't pointed it out, I'm afraid I never would have noticed."
"That's right."
The old woman murmured, "It's not just you. I never saw it either..."
"Was it always here?"
"Really..."
"But..."
The old woman rubbed her forehead.
At her age, it was hard to think things through.
Just trying to recall what she remembered about the painting had given her a slight headache.
"Grandma."
The young man helped her sit down in