2025-10-16 04:54:44Marie stepped into the elevator, her reflection flickering against the mirrored walls as it ascended. The hum of the gallery faded, replaced by soft instrumental music.
When the doors opened, the scent of cedar and oil paint filled the hallway — the scent she’d always associated with her uncle’s workspace. She adjusted her blouse and knocked once before entering. “Marie,” a warm voice called. Her uncle, Kai Won, looked up from a canvas propped against the wall. Light from the tall windows caught the silver in his dark hair. But before she could greet him, another voice made her freeze. “Marie.” Her father. He sat across the room, hands clasped, expression calm but unreadable. Seeing him here — in Kairos Art Space, in her uncle’s office — made her pulse jump. “Dad? What are you doing here?” she asked. Kai Won smiled gently. “He stopped by for a visit. We were just talking about you.” Marie blinked. “About me?” Her father stood, smoothing his tie. “It’s been a while since you came home, sweetheart. I thought I’d drop by since your uncle mentioned your visit.” “Right,” she murmured. “Didn’t expect to find you both here together.” Her uncle chuckled. “Family reunions have their surprises.” Marie forced a smile, though tension coiled in her stomach. She hadn’t seen her father in months — not since their last argument about her “wasting time with paints instead of pursuing a stable career.” Sensing the unease, Kai Won changed the subject. “Come, Marie. I wanted to show you something.” He turned toward a large canvas behind him, half-covered by cloth. With a slow pull, he unveiled it — a man dressed in a black silk robe with wide sleeves, silver threads glinting at the hem. A gray sash bound his waist, and a dark hat shadowed his face. Around him floated scrolls of paper and watching figures — an ancient Korean scene where kings once celebrated artistic brilliance. Marie stepped closer, drawn in by the painting’s quiet power. “It’s beautiful.” Her father studied the work. “You still paint the past,” he said quietly. “The past never really leaves us,” Kai Won replied. Alexander’s brow furrowed. “Hmm. Well, I’ll leave you both to your paints and plans for the exhibition.” He gestured to the canvas with a half-smile. “I’m guessing I’ll see you at dinner?” Marie blinked. “Dinner? You didn’t tell me.” Kai glanced at her. “I was going to, once he left.” Alexander arched a brow. “So?” “Yes, I’ll be there,” Kai said. Marie scoffed, folding her arms. “You could’ve mentioned it earlier.” “Now you know.” With that, her father stood and left. His assistant, Carlos, followed with his suitcase. At the door, her father turned back. “I’ll see you at dinner. Goodbye.” The door clicked shut. Marie let out a breath, irritation flaring. “What is he doing here? Why’d you tell him about the exhibition — and that I was coming?” “Whoa, whoa! Relax, fiery bird. One question at a time.” Her glare didn’t waver. “Your father’s my brother,” Kai said patiently. “We talked about business — the construction company. Then he asked about my work. Since he’s one of our associates, I suppose that’s how he found out.” “‘Dignified associate,’ my foot,” she muttered. “He doesn’t even like me painting, and now he’s pretending to be an art lover?” Kai chuckled. “He does love you, Marie. Don’t let his overprotective attitude get under your skin.” “Sure,” she said flatly, rising from the chair. “Let’s focus on something else.” “You mean this?” She pointed to the painting. “Yes. It’s for the exhibition — but in a different dynamic.” “Like storytelling?” He smiled. “Exactly. You’re smart.” “I always am,” she said, rolling her eyes. Kai laughed softly, taking a seat at his desk while her gaze stayed fixed on the painting. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ A man emerged from the elevator, carrying an air of sophistication and quiet authority in his navy-blue tailored suit. His presence drew attention; workers bowed slightly as he passed, his bodyguard following a few steps behind. He paused, scanning the gallery. His lips curved into a subtle smile. When his eyes met mine, I didn’t look away but something in his gaze felt heavy, almost cold. Still, I held his stare until he turned and walked out. I exhaled slowly and returned to the paintings. After what felt like hours, the elevator doors opened again. Marie stepped out, her expression different from when she’d left me quieter, more distant.
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CHAPTER 29
‐‐~ 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
CHAPTER 28
Continuation of chapter one.Kai — Arrival at the GalaThe ride to the Gala was silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional vibration from my iPad. City lights streaked across the window—gold, white, violet—blurring together like an unfinished painting.I scrolled through the final catalog Clara had sent an hour ago: placement charts, lighting corrections, security grids, predicted turnout. My collections glowed on the screen—oil pieces, charcoal sketches, shattered-glass abstracts, fractured portraits. All bound to the theme of the exhibition:Past lives.Reincarnation.Echoes.Memories that didn’t belong to this lifetime.And threaded through nearly every work—subtle, half-hidden, sometimes only suggested in a shadow—was one recurring figure. The same silhouette. The same haunting outline.I still didn’t know who he was. Or why he kept appearing. Or why my hand seemed compelled to paint him, again and again.The thought gnawed at me, but tonight wasn’t for doubt. T
CHAPTER 27
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
CHAPTER 26
‐‐~ Kai ~‐‐Dawn turned into night.I had done nothing worth calling a day except drinking.Today was supposed to be productive. Today, I told myself I would forget the dream — the nightmare — and focus. But the hours slipped through my fingers like dust. Every time I tried to start something, my mind dragged me back into that dark place. The place where the nightmare kept replaying, shifting, distorting, whispering things I didn’t want to hear.Frustration clawed at my chest. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My mind felt like a cage tightening around me.Enough.Inside my studio, the air smelled of charcoal and turpentine — familiar, safe.I sat before the blank sheet, the pen trembling between my fingers.“Focus,” I whispered to myself.Lines began to form. Soft, fluid strokes. A silhouette. Then two. A man… a woman. My hand moved faster, almost automatically, as if something else was guiding me. Something old. Something buried.The male figure appeared first — the same figure
CHAPTER 25
~~~ 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
CHAPTER 24
~~~ Kai Won ~~~“You—you killed him. You murdered your own blood, your own brother… You’re evil!” Martin yelled.I trembled behind the door, covering my mouth as tears ran down my face. I couldn’t believe it—Mario had murdered Richard, our brother.Mario stood behind the table facing the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His back was turned to Martin, calm and cold. When he finally turned, he walked closer until they were face-to-face.“You make it sound like I committed the worst crime in the universe,” Mario said, his voice smooth. “Relax. It’s not that big a deal.”My heart sank. There was no guilt in his eyes—only a terrifying calm, as if killing Richard was the most natural thing in the world.“You evil bastard! You have no regret for your atrocity!” Martin’s voice cracked with rage.“Why should I?” Mario smirked. “You’re not as innocent as you claim to be, Martin.”“I’ll make sure you pay for what you did. For your sin. I’ll bring you to justice!”“And how exactly do you p
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