What Gio had done was simple.
“I summoned them onto my Palette.”
“I believe I asked you to explain that in more detail, plainly and specifically.”
“……”
“And don’t make that face like you have no idea how you could possibly explain it any better.”
“I have never made such a face.”
“It’s written all over your face, so don’t try to deny it.”
“I feel wronged.”
Only after quite some time had passed was Gio able to explain what he had done. At some point, he had become the platinum-blond priest.
“…You need paint to make a painting, correct?”
“I suppose you’ve become Giovanni because this is difficult to explain. Yes, that’s true. And?”
“In other words, a painting is something made with paint.”
“Right?”
“The same applies to me as I am now. The me inside the frame is made of paint—or could be defined by a concept equivalent to it. I believe that is only natural.”
It followed the same logic.
“The merfolk, and the Breathing Sea where their roots lay… or the Kingdom of the Deep Sea, were linked to my frame. In other words, you could say they constituted a single frame and painting.”
Gio said it calmly.
“Then would our merfolk friends not also have been paint?”
“…Is that how it works? Why?…