The Mona Lisa Pounced On Me

Chapter 11 – This Kind of Friendship

In the middle of the thick door, at about my eye level, there was a small opening like a peephole.

The old woman, pressing her face close to it, bent at the waist

and looked down at me unpleasantly, blinking repeatedly.

‘Who are… who are you?’

Great. The old woman is speaking informally to me.

Is she looking down on me because I’m short?

‘Um… I came to see Michaela who works here. Isn’t she here?’

‘Tsk! How dare a man casually call the great teacher’s name whom we serve!’

Her voice is really booming.

Good for her. She’s my age and being called a teacher.

While I’m just doing menial work for others here. This makes me feel pathetic.

‘There’s no such person here, so go away!’

The old woman closed the door with a clatter.

Huh? What? Excuse me?

Wait, she just said it’s someone she serves, which means that person is here.

Is she playing games with me now?

I grabbed the iron door handle with both hands

and banged on the door panel with all my might.

The small opening quickly opened again.

‘I ought to just—!’

‘Are you my friend’s student, grandmother?’

Take that. Let me be the entitled one for once.

I used to wonder who those crazy people were who mistreated elderly folks on the news,

but now that I’ve fallen into this strange world, why not be a crazy person just once?

‘How dare you suggest that! I said I serve her. The teacher has no time to see male prostitutes, so go away, go!’

Wow.

Look at her trying to close the door again.

So this is what they call being turned away at the door.

Before I could hear the rattling sound again, I burst out in anger.

‘How can you treat me like a male prostitute when you’ve never even met me?’

‘What did you say? Male… what?’

Ah.

I suddenly remembered that this is a world where gender roles are reversed.

Right. ‘Male prostitute’ is the default term, and I suppose ‘female prostitutes’ must be few in number.

…So would a woman who sells her body here be called a ‘female prostitute’ then?

I guess that’s how it is in this country’s language too. Interesting.

‘If I’m not one, you should know I’m not. You’re making me angry.’

‘Why should I listen to a male prostitute who’s barely the age of my daughter-in-law—’

‘Oh come on! How am I a male prostitute?!’

If you say something like ‘it’s because you’re an Asian man with black hair’,

I’m just going to take a hammer and break down this door.

…Though it would take an hour to bring one.

Whatever. I’ll bill our master for it.

‘Ain’t that right? Your clothes have buttons?’

Huh?

‘…What about buttons?’

‘That’s right. Unbuttoning and showing off like that. How provocative–‘

These are clothes Leona bought for me.

No one would be curious about me wearing men’s clothes anyway.

It’s just a medieval outfit that looks somewhat like a shirt,

but the neck part is a bit tight, so I only unbuttoned the top one.

The bottom is pants. These are definitely men’s clothes.

This old lady is picking a fight over the silliest things.

Do I need to study cultural relativism from a textbook right now?

Isn’t it enough that I’m wearing unfamiliar clothes?

What, is she going to tell me to wear makeup next?

I’d rather dive into that river over there than be treated like that. I’m serious.

Telling a man to put powder on his face.

“Alright, enough! Where is Michaela, please!”

‘Such bad manners… Hey! How old are you! Don’t casually call people by their names!’

This crazy city is full of nothing but old fogies. Really.

“Oh, so Michaela is your teacher? Great. Hurry up and go get her, will you?”

I answered firmly while holding back my contorting expression.

This is the problem with being from the ‘country of eastern courtesy.’

I’ve developed the habit of speaking politely to anyone that old, no matter how strange they are.

The old woman pulled her face back after hearing me,

and waved her hand in front of the door without opening it.

‘Get out of here right now, filthy thing. Shoo!’

Damn.

She makes it impossible for a person to maintain any politeness.

I exploded and shouted.

‘Hey! I was with your Michaela and! Last week too! We ate together and everything!’

‘What did you do, you’re clearly a male prostitute?’

‘Aaaaargh!’

I’ve never met anyone in this world who properly understands what I’m saying,

but this is too much.

Damn, just give me the no-condom-ejaculation-breeding-press or whatever it’s called, quickly.

Just as I was about to throw my whole body against the gate,

from the other side of the door, like salvation, a shrill voice was heard.

‘Why is it so noisy while I’m working?’

‘Ah, sir. Some strange Chinese male prostitute came and…’

‘I’m not Chinese, you crazy bastard!’

I shouted with all my might, my face turning bright red.

Having to physically demonstrate which is more unfair—being treated as Chinese or as a male prostitute—truly makes a person go crazy and jump up and down.

Maybe I should have it embroidered on my clothes that I’m not Chinese.

Even though this Italian neighborhood supposedly had exchanges with China, this is too much.

‘…Are you Giocondo?’

A youthful voice calling my name that I acquired here.

The name might be funny, but when written as Giocondo in the local language, it seems somewhat decent.

‘Yeah. Yeah. Do you remember me?’

Please say you do. Otherwise, I don’t want to go home.

I’ve reached the point where I’m calling the workshop my home now.

As I waited anxiously,

the girl, Michaela’s answer was heard.

‘…Come back later. I haven’t even washed up because I’ve been working.’

Is she joking right now?

‘I can’t leave after being treated like this. You were just verbally abused outside the door, would you leave just like that?’

‘Grandmother, did that really happen?’

‘No. I saw buttons on his clothes, so I thought he was a male prostitute…’

‘Grandmother, what century are you talking about? How long has it been since the dress code regulations for prostitutes were abolished?’

‘You all keep talking about things only you understand!’

Is it human nature that once the lid is opened, you start shouting at the top of your lungs?

Or is it because I experienced such strange things the day before that a person becomes this broken?

Why are you making this kind me like this?

It’s like filming some medieval sitcom. And they won’t even show their faces.

After a lot of bickering inside, the door slowly opened.

A girl with squirrel-like bright brown hair,

struggling with both hands to pull the heavy wooden door.

I wonder why they made the gate so heavy when women here are already strong,

but a neighborhood that was in the midst of war just a few years ago is indeed different.

She’s exactly 155 centimeters tall. Small build with a cute appearance,

but the fact that she’s similar in height to me in this world makes me feel sad.

She looks like someone whose head I should pat protectively,

but to have to watch her from the same eye level…

The girl, having come out from her work, was firmly holding a hammer in her right hand and a chisel in her left.

But her outfit…

She’s missing her bottoms, isn’t she?

It’s a tight-fitting, lace-like white one-piece outfit

The skirt is extremely shortened, like a short school uniform skirt,

coming down just to the precarious part near the crotch.

There are no pants.

Instead, pure white stockings pulled up high to the deep part of the thighs

match exceptionally well with her fair skin and hair.

But before that, well…

When someone is draped in such fluttery lace all over their body, there’s nowhere safe to look.

I know it’s better to wear comfortable clothes when working, but this is just…

Her bust may be considerably smaller than our master’s,

but since her proportions themselves are excellent,

it gives the impression of boldly protruding small breasts.

I deliberately turned my eyes away since I couldn’t blatantly stare at someone else’s chest,

but my gaze kept sneaking glances at her well-dressed, long-stretched legs in stockings.

At least she won’t be strangling anyone’s neck with those legs, right?

As I avoided making eye contact,

this friend, Michaela’s gentle voice was heard.

‘…Hey. I told you not to come here.’

What, dude?

After kindly opening the door for me, you’re giving me this too?

I’m going to get angry, you know.

‘Didn’t you tell me to come last time?’

‘Huh? I did?’

Michaela, with a puzzled expression, scratched her head while holding a hammer,

and soon recalled the promise.

‘…Ah. Right. I forgot because I was working.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Damn… this work is supposed to be secret from others.’

You’re telling me about secrets?

‘You can’t tell anyone that I’m here, okay?’

The friend with the misty hair said this,

and seemed to glance at my open chest before raising the end of her last sentence.

That’s fortunate.

Thanks to that, she probably won’t notice me looking at her legs.

‘What’s the point if you won’t even show me what you’re working on? What would I tell?’

‘Huh? Of course I’m working on a commissioned sculpture of King Ahava אהבה, oops.’

The girl stopped mid-sentence and firmly closed her mouth.

The old woman beside her heaved a deep sigh.

Again, another unfamiliar word appears. It doesn’t seem to be the local language. What could it be?

I don’t know. Not really curious—

Sorry. Since it’s about sculpture, I am curious about that.

There’s no helping it. It’s the fate of a major.

I love sculpture more than food and sleep, so that’s why I got into Seoul National University’s Sculpture Department.

It’s true.

Of course, I don’t know if it will be as beautiful as this well-proportioned friend’s snow-white legs.

‘…Why have you been staring at my legs? Is there something on them?’

‘No, no, I-I-I. I was just wondering if women wear stockings here too?’

‘Of course women wear stockings. Who else would?’

My friend answers nonchalantly.

Embarrassed at being caught staring at her legs,

I unconsciously grabbed my collar and patted it, letting in some air,

And I felt both their gazes suddenly drawn to me.

‘Ahem. Ahem… Oh. There really is some powder on you.’

For some reason, after clearing her throat,

My friend smooths her snow-white stockings.

Women in this world are all so defenseless in their actions.

If this were purely pleasant, it would be nice, but sometimes it feels incredibly erotic.

Like now.

As she slapped her hands against her firm thighs, white powder fell in a shower.

Oh… that. It’s marble dust. I can tell right away.

‘Grandma, can you dust off my hair?’

I wondered why her hair looked bright and hazy,

But it was because her bob cut was completely covered in white powder, making it look bright.

The stone dust falls in little piles.

It’s not dirty work.

Working with marble dust without even a dust mask

Is truly an unimaginably difficult task.

The original color revealed after dusting is about as dark as the brown part of a striped squirrel.

But while that effort is impressive,

When she bends her waist that way, I can see her entire backside. That.

Not wearing pants, her cute bottom was exposed.

Unlike our master Leona’s sensually spread hips,

Her small, swaying bottom seemed completely innocent of men.

As I kept trying to chase away my lewd thoughts,

Michaela finished fixing her bob cut and blurted out:

‘Ah, really. How embarrassing… why did you have to come now…’

So you do feel embarrassed too.

Well, I guess it’s hard for anyone, even men, to show themselves grooming to others.

After the stimulation passed, I finally remembered that this is a world where gender roles are reversed.

I might forget when I see a girl dusting off her half-naked body in front of me. Damn.

Transferring your angry feelings to others is wrong, but

Still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unfairness after receiving such cold treatment.

‘What’s the problem? Am I not allowed to come?’

‘No, no, no! That’s. That’s not it. It’s…’

Michaela waved her hands frantically in surprise.

Why can’t you speak?

‘So?’

‘I told you. I couldn’t wash…’

‘Do you really care about such things between friends?’

Michaela’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then

drooped like a deflated dog.

‘Fri.ends…’

Did I say something wrong?

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing… I don’t know. Stop staring at my legs. It’s annoying. I should just…’

Her voice gradually faded toward the end, but I heard it clearly.

Just what are you going to do? We’re about the same height.

I could probably beat you—

I hope so, at least.

“But why is that thing on your legs so long?”

“What do you mean? Stockings are supposed to be like this. These are expensive ones. Made of dog leather.”

Ah. So they were originally flesh-colored but turned snow-white because of the marble dust.

I thought she had skinned some rice cake creature or something.

Wait a minute. Normally, stone dust is just a handful that quickly disappears.

To be covered like that all over her body, she must have been working for hours.

‘Hmm.’

I shuddered at the unimaginable amount of work.

While I was tossing and turning and doing useless things last night,

it feels quite something to know my so-called friend was steadily moving ahead.

But it wasn’t useless since I could at least come outside.

I should quickly go back and come up with something brilliant too.

“I guess I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why? Don’t you want to see me…?”

Michaela lowered her eyebrows as if sad.

‘It’s not that. You just seem very busy.’

“I’ll finish soon. Should be done by next year?”

It’s March now. Your definition of ‘soon’ is next year?

Even a 5-meter statue would take at most three or four months.

I blurted out in disbelief.

‘What on earth are you working on that takes years?’

‘What are you talking about? I have the fastest hands in Europe, you know?’

A surprising answer.

Oh right. There’s no grinder here.

Since falling into this world, I’ve only made tables out of clay

I forgot for a moment because I haven’t started serious sculpting yet.

‘But how would a man know about sculpture?’

Ugh. This is scratching at my pride again.

It feels like something I used to say a lot in my original world.

‘Of course. I’m good at it. Probably better than you?’

Michaela’s smiling expression

froze completely.

‘…What did you just say?’

I responded with a smug attitude.

‘I said I’d be better at it than a little kid the same age as me.’

It’s true.

Top admission to art high school, graduated top of class, and then top admission to university again

I had no rivals in my age group.

‘That thing you said before about being a Vatican sculptor was just showing off, right? I know everything, you little brat. How dare you-‘

The girl said through gritted teeth.

‘Hey! That was just a figure of speech! They really did contact me! They’re desperate to have me!’

‘Sure~ That’s a lie~ I don’t believe you~’

Childish teasing.

My mind felt at ease after thoroughly teasing my friend.

Wow. It finally feels like I’m talking to a person.