The first rays of the Sun invaded the shabby flat occupied by Averie.
The tiny dust particles lifting in the air could be seen in the radiant light. And on the wall opposite the window, it concentrated strongly, bathing the framed painting in a vintage hue.
The painting was one that could be admired for hours. It depicted a beautiful girl of noble birth displaying loneliness and sorrow. It was as if she were trapped yet aware that there was no escape.
Dressed neatly, Averie stood observing her.
Imperfections of an unsteady hand were clearly visible on her features, yet the actor preferred it that way.
It told a story, he believed.
After all, it was the last painting by Chaoxiang Cao.
The good painter wanted Averie to have it as he thought it was the second-best piece he had ever drawn.
He was impressed by Averie’s portrayal of Asmodeus Binsfeld, and perhaps he harbored a hope that his role in Director Groux’s film would do justice to its inspiration.
"If I had any more time on earth, I would have loved to draw you," he had said to Averie, as the latter clutched the wrapped gift.
The actor couldn’t come up with a reply. What was he to say, anyway?
Death made men weak, but the regret of an artist was far greater than the fear of relinquishing life.
He would have remained lost in such sentimentalities if not for his friend, who was pacing around in the room, talking on the phone, and making noises.
She opened the window to feed the pigeons, which irked Averie.
He had told her enough times not to invite those awful birds to his window, but she would not listen.
If he weren’t in such a sombre mood, he would have intimidated her into apologizing.
"Really?" she loudly exclaimed.
"Then, I kicked him in the nuts," Ari replied from the other side. "Now, I am suspended for a week."
"How could you do something like that, Ari? You should be nice to your classmates!"
She was speaking with such worry that it made Averie wonder which one of them was actually the girl’s cousin.
"By the way, why isn’t my lovely cousin picking up my calls?" Ari asked, sounding bored. "He doesn’t even reply to my texts."
"Well," — Hyerin briefly glanced at her friend — "he is busy."
"Even then, can’t he make some time? It’s not like I am asking for money. Actually, I am asking for money, but don’t tell him that, okay?"
The older girl laughed. "Okay."
"Is everything alright, though? The fanbase is wondering what he’s up to these days, but there aren’t any updates from you guys. The media isn’t doing any snooping around either. I think they are afraid of how unhinged he is."
"Don’t call your cousin that!" Hyerin yelled, a deep frown engraved in her forehead. "Even if it is true, you shouldn’t say it!"
The older woman suddenly felt shivers. Looking behind, she found Averie staring at her with eyes wide open like a psychopath.
"Anyway," she hastened to change the topic. "You didn’t tell anyone where we are, right?"
It was a rather snobby reply.
"But," — Her voice suddenly turned humble — "why are you guys in the UK? Are you planning something? Are you filming something? What is it? Can you tell me? Please, tell me."
"It’s a secret for now, okay? We can’t tell you about the projects—"
"Projects? Plural? There is more than one?"
She sounded like a purring cat, and that was Hyerin’s clue to wrap up the call.
"We can’t tell you much, but I will inform you before something major drops." Her head turned towards the calendar. "By the way, do you play video games?"
In a dark room on the 27th floor of a high-rise residential building owned entirely by Weisin, a woman sat huddled in the corner.
The place was littered with unclean dishes and bottles of red wine.
No one was around to pester her, but the woman could still hear the voices of the servants calling for her from beyond the door.
They weren’t there. They had returned to take their rest hours ago. But she could still hear them.
She held her knees and drew them closer. That was the only source of warmth and security she felt.
Suddenly, a sound as if someone was hitting against the window emanated from the glass wall bathed in moonlight.
The woman’s head jerked up, and her eyes darted hastily. Her legs shook as she reached for the nearby bottle and grasped it tightly.
She had never hit anyone, but tonight, her instincts guided her naturally.
But it was a false alarm. The perpetrator making noise against her glass wall was nothing but an inquisitive bird.
The strength in her legs disappeared, and her knees hit the floor. Her droopy eyes, blemished by dark circles, looked beyond exhausted.
This had been going on for a month, and Patricia Kim was very tired.
It began with the mysterious burglar who invaded multiple homes of journalists who were on good terms with Walter Dean.
The letters left behind spelled her name. It caused her great shock, and she chose not to ignore it.
At first, she decided to maintain vigilance by staying at home until Averie was arrested.
But that never happened.
That thought kept swirling around in her head.
And as time passed, she fell further into her delusions.
’Why is he in London? Is it because he is not afraid of being extradited? Is he planning something?’
That fear turned into something terrible. Soon, she locked herself, allowing only a few members of her family and servants inside.
’He can come from anywhere.’
She didn’t trust the security team assigned to her by her father.
Lack of sleep had made her blind to reality, and she had chewed on her nails so much that they had begun bleeding.
’Why isn’t he here yet?’
Like a wobbly doll, she rocked back and forth.