The Mona Lisa Pounced On Me

Chapter 12 – Snowflake

Michaela, who had been angry for a while, gradually began breathing heavily and roughly,

Then, with a deep sigh, she said,

‘Why are you really so rude… calling people chestnut-sized.’

Well, well.

My height, for your information, is one hundred seventy-fi-

No, one hundred fifty-five.

Just thinking about it makes me gloomy.

They reduced my height, took away my muscles. Why did they leave my dick the same, huh?

‘When you’re even shorter yourself. I’ll let it slide because you look cute. Really.’

It feels a bit strange to be called cute as a man, but a compliment is a compliment.

Still, I should throw a jab back.

‘Hey. Chestnut. Don’t talk like that when you’re the same.’

‘What? Want to measure?’

‘No. That won’t be necessary…’

‘You’re shorter than me. Don’t lie.’

Yeah, kid. Not 155. A few centimeters shorter.

But a man’s height isn’t what’s important right now.

As I frowned as much as I could,

I realized how long it had been since I could freely change my expressions, and my mood suddenly improved.

This is what living in the real world is like. Not what our master says.

‘I’m really happy.’

‘About what? Being with me?’

Michaela thrust her head forward and asked.

Why do you keep saying such burdensome things?

‘No. Just. I was thinking how comfortable it is to be with someone who listens.’

‘Ah…’

The girl drooped her eyes like puppy ears again.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘No?’

‘Your expression keeps changing.’

Michaela looked puzzled and asked me.

‘That’s you. Do you know how funny it looks from the side? One moment you look like death, the next you’re suddenly smiling.’

Uh…

‘Is it because men have such emotional swings?’

It would have been fine if she hadn’t added that last part.

‘I don’t know either.’

When I responded coldly, I could sense her not knowing what to do.

‘Want something sweet? Men like sweet things, right.’

Geez. That men, men talk again.

Do the people in this neighborhood have a habit of not being able to speak without mentioning men?

‘Looking at how clueless you are, you must be single, right?’

‘Wh…what?’

Right, because of the time difference, slang doesn’t translate in this setting. I keep forgetting that.

‘I’m asking if you’ve ever dated a man. If you’re a virgin.’

The reaction that followed was quite a sight to behold.

Her skin, still white with stone dust,

turned bright red like a boiled octopus.

‘Aaaaaaaaahhhhh no!’

If there were a virginity test in this strange world, she probably would have perfectly passed it with that response.

I never dreamed I’d be having this kind of conversation with a girl.

Well, if I think about it like a girl in my world asking her male friend if he’s ever dated anyone,

that is kind of funny.

People in this world are lucky. So convenient for them to check virginity.

‘So. What’s the sweet thing?’

If I didn’t keep talking and holding her there,

Michaela, with her bright red face, looked like she would run away somewhere immediately.

‘Ah. Ice cream…’

What?

There’s ice cream here?

‘How could there be ice cream in the middle of the medieval period…’

‘Middle of what? You’re using strange words again, grandmother. Do you want to go to Palazzo Vecchio and ask them to share some ice cream? You’ve been there many times, so you know their faces, right?’

As I was confused by the sudden mention of a palace name when we were just talking about dessert,

Michaela regained her composure and spoke with a suddenly confident face.

‘You. You’ve never had ice cream before, right? Spring ice cream is so delicious.’

She’s making a big deal out of everything.

Ice cream tastes better in summer, you fool.

‘Ah. But…’

Michaela, despite there being just the two of us, was strangely fidgeting.

‘What now?’

‘If they find out there’s a man here when I bring it, it’ll be trouble. So eat quickly when it comes.’

Well, well.

Strangely, this feels familiar somehow.

I don’t eat things given by others. You eat it yourself.

If I answered like that, would I be immediately pounced on in some flower garden?

After what happened last night, my legs were still trembling,

so that wouldn’t have been a very good choice.

‘Ughhhh…’

While my legs were trembling,

I sat down on the floor inside the building.

If the old lady had been here, she would have probably nagged about why the man was sitting like that.

In contrast, our nice friend sat comfortably beside me, leaning back on both arms.

…while glancing at my chest.

Thinking I should come to my senses now, I buttoned up all the way to the top.

It’s hot.

Anyway, the inside of the building was so clean that I wondered what kind of place this was.

It was nice to sit comfortably with a friend who understands me, but I didn’t have anything particular to say.

I haven’t had many conversations with women either.

‘Um…’

‘Well…’

When I tried to speak, Michaela shouted something at the same time, and our words overlapped.

‘You go first.’

‘I’m fine. You go first.’

A girl who yields to me.

How nice it would be if all women in the world were this considerate.

Why do they always whine about not getting enough attention?

Complaining that sculpting practice is more important than them.

Well, art is important, what else would be?

Life is short and art is long. Don’t you know?

Why bother confessing on your own, assuming we’re dating, breaking up on your own,

And in the midst of it all, spreading trash rumors about others.

‘It’s nothing. I was just wondering what kind of workshop this is.’

‘This? It’s a temporary workshop. Accademia gallery. We’ve used it for three years, so it’s weird to call it temporary.’

So that’s why the entrance was empty.

Over there, behind the curtain, must be the workshop.

‘Can I go see what you’re working on?’

I asked without much thought, but

The dark brown-haired girl made all sorts of grim faces and fell into deep contemplation.

She tucked her head between her legs while sitting,

Made a grimace and pulled at her hair,

Put her hand to her mouth and rested her arm on her leg.

Like Rodin’s The Thinker.

If I asked her what that is, she’d probably say she doesn’t know.

‘This is… well. Originally, not even the new Pope himself would be allowed. Until it’s completed, I really don’t show it to anyone, absolutely anyone!’

The Pope must be a woman too. I get it now without being told.

‘But whatever.’

‘No… just. If you ask… well. I can’t refuse… damn. But you didn’t even ask…’

Good grief. How full of herself.

Why am I seeing our master overlapping with her here?

‘It’s fine. It’s okay. Why would I beg you to see it? If you don’t want to show it, just say so.’

When I answered like that

Michaela’s eyes narrowed and she suddenly pouted.

‘…Men, seriously.’

This time, I had no choice but to smack my forehead with my hand.

Just as I was about to launch into a passionate speech about proper relationships between men and women

Grandmother came running at a speed that was hard to believe for an elderly person

And handed us both baskets that she had been carrying.

‘Thank you for your hard work.’

Michaela said that professionally and took one of the baskets

Then handed it to me along with an elegant silver spoon.

This is…

Real ice cream.

Snow piled softly inside a large, tightly sealed basket.

A round scoop of ice cream with a spoon in it.

Unlike vanilla, it had no yellow tint, and on top of the transparent-colored ice cream

Various fruit juices were neatly sprinkled.

‘Ah, it’s cold.’

The bottom of the basket was damp.

So that’s why she came running so quickly.

How on earth did they keep this frozen?

‘Is this something not just anyone can eat…?’

Terrified at the thought of enjoying such an unexpected luxury,

I asked.

No. In a village with no magic, suddenly real ice cream appears.

Rather than feeling grateful or happy, it sent chills down my spine.

‘Of course! It’s because I’m me that you’re getting this. Instead of talking, hurry up and eat it. It’s melting.’

As I took the spoon, I felt its smooth texture.

A bit shorter and blunter than what we usually use,

But the entire handle was decorated, with a structure that provided a firm grip to prevent slipping.

This must be worth a fortune too, I thought as I swallowed hard.

Though it was a shame there was only one bite,

I scooped up a small portion and put it in my mouth, and the amazing vanilla flavor-

‘Vanilla, no milk… actually it just tastes like snow. But the fruit flavor is nice.’

Unlike me savoring the taste,

Michaela had already devoured her ice cream in the blink of an eye and was licking the snow with her tongue.

When a girl does it, it doesn’t look gross.

It’s just like a puppy flicking its tongue.

Suddenly, the memory of Leona greedily licking my cock yesterday flashed through my mind,

And I squeezed my eyes shut.

I picked up the light basket and pressed it against my forehead

The cool, pleasant sensation cleared my head

I also scooped up the ice cream along with the snow using a spoon.

Delicious.

It’s cold like the snow outside

But the texture is definitely that of soft ice cream.

Since fruit was mashed and poured over it, it also has a sorbet-like feel.

To me, who had emptied my bowl,

Michaela, with an extremely satisfied and triumphant expression, asked.

‘It’s good, right.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re grateful, right.’

‘Of course.’

It is indeed a welcome gift I couldn’t have imagined, being disconnected from modern civilization.

Michaela, as if wanting more praise, put her arms around her waist

And was staring straight at me, breathing heavily as if her mouth had gotten cold.

If she had dog ears attached, she’d look exactly like a retriever.

‘But what did you mean earlier when you said the taste should be similar to milk?’

‘You thought it was vanilla. I actually prefer chocolate.’

‘What?’

This friend who again doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

There’s ice cream but no vanilla or chocolate?

I don’t understand what exists and what doesn’t in this neighborhood.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

I blurted out and gratefully enjoyed the lingering taste in my mouth.

So what if the flavor is bland? Eating ice cream in a world without refrigerators is quite an achievement.

‘Even when we first met, and occasionally now, you say things I can’t understand.’

‘That’s the same for everyone, isn’t it?’

I thought I had answered rather cleverly,

But the brown-haired girl looked at me as if I were a complete weirdo.

I changed the subject.

‘Anyway, what were you going to ask earlier?’

‘Um…’

Michaela bit her nails, looking at me nervously.

‘…can I really ask?’

I don’t like this attitude from women.

Like a real man, if it’s yes, it’s yes. If it’s no, it’s no. Just like that.

Huh? Why beat around the bush?

Frustrated with Michaela who kept mumbling,

I spoke first.

‘How much did this ice cream cost?’

Her eyes widened as if such a question was unfamiliar,

then Michaela answered proudly.

‘You can’t buy this with money. It’s not given to just anyone. A reward for service to this newly established great republic? Something like that? Even what I’m sculpting now is for that? I wish you knew some history about this place. It’s not a government in league with false prophets, nor those who claim to be democratic and speak of justice while letting their families do whatever they want. It’s a sculpture symbolizing the triumph of the civic republic—’

‘Stop it, man.’

I’ll never understand the politics here no matter how many times I hear about it.

Sometimes there’s talk about some crazy woman who would walk through fire like a shaman,

and other times stories about a woman who ruled with supposed fairness but was essentially a dictator.

My friend is great in every way, but since the first day we met, if I say the wrong thing, she goes on about politics I can’t understand.

It’s an illness. A real illness.

I want none of that talk.

‘But anyway, they all come to me saying, ‘Sister, please do just one for me.’ Do you believe me now? I told you I’m really successful—’

You’re starting to resemble our master.

Is this what they call being young and arrogant or whatever?

‘I feel like I’m going to burst if you say any more about that. I’m truly grateful. Anyway, it’s true you can’t give it to just anyone, right?’

‘Of course!’

Is this how parents look when watching food go into their child’s mouth?

Watching this twenty-year-old girl make such an expression beside me

feels quite strange.

‘After giving your only friend the most precious food in the world, why are you hesitating so much? Ask me anything. I’ll tell you everything except my house password.’

After saying that, the girl’s triumphant expression briefly seemed to deflate,

but then returned to a happy one.

A beautiful woman looking like this is pleasant to see.

I feel proud too.

It seems like life would be easy if I married a friend like this.

…Though it’s a shame I didn’t get to see her sculpting skills.

I think that opportunity will come soon enough.

But even after waiting for quite some time, Michaela showed no intention of speaking.

Her eyes darted to others’ necks, heads, chests, and stomachs.

Her wrists fidgeted, fingers kneading and rubbing.

Her rounded breasts twisted with her whole body.

It was quite a scene. Quite a scene indeed.

Bewildered, I slowly opened my mouth.

‘It’s… a bit strange when you’re doing that next to me. Relax. Just relax.’

If it turned out there was some aphrodisiac in the ice cream, that would be quite funny.

Or perhaps, a confession between friends.

While I was thinking about various possibilities,

the girl, seemingly having made up her mind after hearing my words,

sat up straight and faced me.

Creating a serious atmosphere completely different from before,

with her straightened posture and stiffened face,

There was an atmosphere that was hard to resist.

I told you to relax, but you’re showing the face of a master craftsman.

‘Um… you had your top button undone earlier, right?’

‘Uh… yeah.’

What on earth are you trying to ask?

‘The mark on your chest, what is it?’

In the girl’s gaze as she said that,

it seemed as if a sharp beam of light flashed by.