Chapter 830:

Emboldened by the rapt attention of judges and onlookers, she pressed her case. “Realism isn’t about weaving sentimental tales or plucking heartstrings. It’s about precision, the meticulous rendering of a living subject’s truth.” Her voice crescendoed, commanding the room. “Who among you has seen the woman in Maia’s painting? Can anyone attest to its fidelity? Who can verify that every contour, every nuance, mirrors a real person?”

The hall fell into a stunned hush, her words hanging like a guillotine’s blade.

Her eyes swept over the judges, sharp and admonishing, as if scolding wayward pupils. “So, tell me — on what grounds do you crown her the winner?”

Her rebuke stung, and several judges who had favored Maia shrank, their faces flushed with chagrin, shifting uneasily in their seats.

A murmur rippled through the audience, swelling into a chorus of debate.

“Mariana’s got a point,” one voice conceded. “Portrait realism demands likeness. None of us know the woman Maia painted.”

Another added, “Mariana’s portrait of Kiley, who stands before us, is a flawless mirror of her. It’s undeniable.”

we judge Maia’s work? She painted a deceased woman she never met. Can that even

swayed. Defenders

It’s about capturing a subject’s essence, their living spirit.

soul,

and impact.

a cacophony of clashing

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one detractor countered. “The focus must be the person,

portrait can be proven identical to its

swayed under the weight of Mariana’s and Kiley’s calculated

blade of cruel calculation. In a voice soft yet laced with venom, she addressed the judges who had

in dry tinder, igniting an uproar

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