Her tone gradually became excited, filled with long-suppressed grievances and resentment: "I tried my best, thinking I could get a compliment..."
"What I could exchange was always 'not enough' and 'far from it'... whose children are like this... as if I could never meet their standards."
She took a deep breath, her eyes filling with bitterness: "When I grew up a bit, they became stricter."
"Who you associate with, what books you read, what color dress you wear... even the income from my auction paintings, they have to keep in their hands."
...
After a few minutes of conversation, Iris's voice subsided.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, tears welled up in her eyes, and she sobbed quietly.
Years of strict control and constant denial had turned into heavy grievances at that moment, finally breaking down in front of this man who could listen.
Karl's gaze shifted from the painting, composed of free and beautiful petals, contrasting with her bound reality.
He looked into Iris's tearful eyes, and his voice was soft: "Iris, do you want to hear my opinion?"
Iris raised her tearful eyes and looked at him, said nothing, just nodded vigorously.
Karl sighed softly and shook his head: "In my opinion, your parents may never see you as an independent 'person.'"
"They are more likely to treat you as something they haven't achieved, or as a tool to protect the family's interests..."
He noticed Iris's pupils slightly contract, but he didn't stop and continued to speak clearly: "Since it's a 'tool,' it must fully meet their expectations, and there must be no deviation."
"Any idea of your own autonomy, any slightest resistance,"
"in their eyes, is not a child growing up, but a tool that has gotten out of control and is challenging their absolute authority."
"Perhaps... there was a moment when they regarded you as a daughter."
"But when that affection is weighed on the scales of their face, desire for control, or practical interests..."
Karl paused, his eyes filled with pity: "You are heavy, but unfortunately, you don't have those things that matter."
His words, like a cold scalpel, tore away the cloak of affection from Iris's parents.
It shattered Iris's fantasy of luck, and she looked at Karl in a daze, tears quietly streaming down her face.
In her eyes, something that had been suppressed seemed to be slowly awakening.
Karl watched the tears rolling down Iris's cheeks; although he couldn't bear it in his heart,
he understood that to help this girl, who had been emotionally manipulated for a long time, truly break free from her shackles,
he had to be ruthless and completely shatter the false cage in her heart, wrapped in family love.
He wanted to destroy her past indoctrination and distorted thinking and restore normal thinking for her.
"Iris, you have always been too obsessed with your parents' ideas, obsessed with how they see you and evaluate you, but you have ignored your own feelings."
He took half a step forward, his eyes like torches, looking directly into her flickering eyes: "In this world, some people are destined to be unqualified parents."
"They stubbornly believe that children are born as their private property."
"All value—from emotions, thoughts, to creation—must be strictly controlled in their hands."
His words were a cold criticism: "In my opinion, such people are not worthy of the sacred title of 'parent' at all."
"Freeing a child from suffocating control is the true salvation for that child."
Iris understood the almost decisive meaning of Karl's words.
However, the obedience she had accumulated in her heart for many years, and her inertial dependence on "home," led her to contradiction and confusion.
She involuntarily pinched the hem of her skirt hard, her knuckles turning white, her voice so weak she was talking to herself.
She seemed to be objecting to Karl, and seemed to be trying to convince the awakening voice in her heart: "But... but after all, they gave birth to me, and they... and raised me to adulthood..."
"How can I... how can I just leave them like that? Isn't that..."
Karl shook his head again, cutting through the disguise called kindness: "When you are not regarded as a person with an independent character, a child to be loved and respected,"
"but only as a tool for profit and family revival,"
"this so-called grace of fertility has been desecrated and compensated for by their own actions."
He paused, recalling the conversation he had heard in the sky earlier.
"As for the caring grace you've always been pursuing... Iris, think carefully."
"How many paintings have you sold over the years? How many crowns have you earned in total?"
"And where has that money gone? Has most of it ended up in your parents' pockets?"
Iris was startled upon hearing this, her brows subconsciously furrowed, and she fell into recollection.
She looked blankly at the just-completed, valuable painting beside her and answered uncertainly: "Successfully sold at auction... there are thirty-two in total."
"The price... there are highs and lows. The exact amount, I would need to check the ledger to be sure..."
"It doesn't have to be that troublesome. Just take a relatively low estimate based on the auction price of average paintings and give an approximate evaluation."
Iris thought for a moment and quickly gave an answer.
"My paintings... the lowest auction price is also close to fifty crowns each, and the highest... it can exceed a hundred crowns."
As soon as this number was spoken, even Karl's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of imperceptible surprise on his face.
The best house a commoner family could buy cost only between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and fifty Orens.
Although the exchange rate between the crown and the Oren fluctuates from time to time, fifty crowns are equivalent to seventy-five Orens, enough to buy half of a good house.
Iris's talent was far beyond his imagination, and he spared no praise, smiling sincerely: "Iris, your talent has truly amazed me."
"You are the most talented and promising artist I have ever seen."
Hearing such a straightforward compliment, Iris's cheeks flushed, and she shyly lowered her head.
She habitually responded with her parents' self-deprecating phrase: "How could that be... Mr. Karl, you are too kind."
"My father, mother, they... always say that my paintings barely attract attention, and that there are still many flaws..."
Karl's smile instantly faded, and he was completely helpless: "They are deliberately belittling you, Iris."