The sunlight was also a patch of color hanging in the sky, looking somewhat like chrysanthemum petals—except they glowed.
Because this was a town beneath the setting sun, the color patches that made up the sunlight looked rather red, and their light gave the town a reddish tint as well.
The creature sitting beside the table tilted her head. She seemed to be observing Deathstroke, but soon shook her head. Beneath the sunset, that roughly outlined humanoid somehow possessed a certain beauty.
"You can't resist Him."
After saying that, the female customer drinking coffee fell silent. She seemed to return from three dimensions to two, becoming a flat silhouette within the painting, just like the gentleman by the sea earlier.
It was impossible to tell whether they had actively withdrawn or been persecuted for speaking, but Su Ming leaned toward the former. He could not sense any emotion from them—neither fear nor sorrow, only calm.
But perhaps beings of such a high level simply had no emotions. Or perhaps, in their eyes, he was not a living creature at all?
"I have a guess." Su Ming leaned back in his chair, running a hand over the abstractly styled Round Table as he studied the woman across from him, now flattened into a plane, and the mottled patches of color that formed her face. "Sometimes, when I'm reading, I get excited and say something to a character in the book. But then I quickly realize that's something an idiot would do and shut up. Maybe this is the same sort of thing."
"Eek."
Strangle indicated that this was indeed possible. These humanoid-like beings were probably manifestations of the immersion felt by certain higher-level consciousnesses within the story.
Except this was a painting rather than a book. The figures moving about inside