~~~ Kai Won ~~~I softly opened the door, stopping midway before entering the studio room where my little niece was painting. I watched every stroke, every shift her hand made. It was beautiful — but broken. Each stroke she drew carried a fracture, a silent struggle. It was as if she was trying to capture a moment that refused to come alive.In the midst of all her sadness, she was trying to find happiness.Usually, I’d say it was her wrong stroking, but this time, it wasn’t about technique — every line was perfect. It wasn’t her hands; it was her emotions.I stepped fully into view, shutting the door gently behind me.“Clara was right — you’re early,” I said.“Morning, Uncle Kai,” she replied softly, her eyes not drifting away from her painting.“Dad’s issues again?” I asked, moving closer until I stood before her canvas, resting an elbow on its edge.“No. I just need my own space. And don’t you dare ruin my painting,” she said, pushing my hand off.Leaning close to her ear, I whispe

The night air bit at Jones’ skin as he left the store, breath misting in the cold. Snow drifted down lazily, cloaking the empty street in silence. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his thoughts looping between exhaustion and the weight of his uncertain life.As he turned the corner, he saw her — an old woman sitting by the edge of the walkway, wrapped in tattered scarves, her frail hands cupped around a paper cup that barely held a few coins. Her eyes were weary but calm, like someone who had lived through centuries of winter.Jones hesitated, then sighed, walking toward her. He dug through his coat and pulled out some cash, kneeling to hand it to her.“Here,” he said softly. “Get something warm to eat.”The woman looked up at him, her gaze deep and unsettlingly clear. She didn’t take the money at first — instead, her trembling fingers brushed against his hand, holding it for a brief, deliberate moment.Her voice cracked as she spoke, slow and deliberate.“Sometimes,” she s

~~~ Kai ~~~The morning sun crawled across the city skyline, slicing through the tall glass windows of my penthouse. The soft chime of the clock broke the silence. I rubbed my temples, my body stiff from another sleepless night. Pale dawn light spilled over the piano keys — the same ones I hadn’t touched since the last note faded hours ago.I dressed in quiet precision — black turtleneck, charcoal coat, leather gloves. Every motion deliberate, an armor against the heaviness in my mind.Outside, Manhattan was already awake. Downstairs, my chauffeur straightened up as soon as I stepped out.“Good morning, sir,” he greeted, grabbing my suitcase.“Morning,” I replied curtly.“Rough night?”“No. Slept well,” I lied, settling into the backseat. “And you?”“Great night,” he grinned, catching my glance in the rearview mirror.The streets glittered with melting snow, taxis blaring through traffic, steam rising from the subway vents. The city moved fast — too fast — while my thoughts dragged be

AUTHOR’S NOTE:If you’ve read this far, congratulations — you’re officially one of the mystical art lovers, lol. I hope you’re enjoying this book. I’m truly sorry for the late and delayed update; please accept my sincere apology, guys.AUTHOR’S WARNING:Alright, listen up — things are about to get messy. Like really messy. These last few chapters dive straight into the characters’ past right before the Gala, and trust me, they’re all about to lose their minds in their own special ways.From this point onward, the story shifts. These next chapters will pull you beneath the surface and into the past — to the moments right before the Gala, where everything truly began. The characters you’ve been following will reveal themselves in ways you didn’t expect.Secrets will rot their way to the surface.Identities will crack open.Boundaries will be crossed without hesitation.And the truth behind Kai’s art and Jones’ life will grow darker, sharper, and far more dangerous.These scenes will exp

‐‐~ Jones ~‐‐Jones forced his shaking hands to grab his phone. The emergency operator picked up immediately, and he gave the location, told them someone was badly hurt, and that they needed to arrive fast.He didn’t stay longer than that.The moment the call ended, he ran through the rain toward Michael’s car. His heart was beating too fast, his thoughts scrambled. He didn’t understand what he saw, or what really happened, or why someone would target Barry of all people.He just knew he needed to get away before he completely fell apart.The tires screeched against the wet road as he sped back toward the event.The closer he got to the exhibition, the more his phone vibrated nonstop in his pocket—but he didn’t check it. He couldn’t. Not yet. His mind was still at the construction site, still seeing Barry drop past the elevator, still seeing the shadowed figure running away.When he finally reached the gallery, he parked carelessly—crooked and half over the line—and rushed toward the