(Rhea's POV)

I knew today was going to be a long one, but I didn't expect every second of it to feel this strange.

I tried to shake off my thoughts and quickly went to check the paintings on display before the guests started arriving.

Out of all the pieces exhibited tonight, the Moon Painting always pulled at me the most. But for some reason, when I looked at it tonight, something felt... different.

I only glanced at the canvas as I crossed the hall-but in that brief moment, I saw something. A pair of eyes in the painting shimmered, like they were reflecting actual moonlight.

I froze. My steps halted.

Was I hallucinating?

My eyes scanned the room, hoping someone else had seen it too. The guests were still admiring the painting, but their faces looked normal. They were just smiling, nodding, or chatting about colors and techniques. No one looked surprised. No one seemed to notice what I just saw.

My heart thudded unevenly in my chest.

I forced myself to stay calm as I explained the Moon Painting to the next group. My smile stayed, my voice steady, my steps measured. But underneath all of that, I just wanted to close my eyes and take a deep breath. Unfortunately, that would've looked weird.

I glanced elsewhere among the arriving guests, and there he was... that national hockey player-Kaelan Viero. He was standing there. Still. Blending into the crowd. But the way he looked at me felt piercing. Not because his stare was sharp. But because-somehow-I felt like he was way too close.

More guests arrived and started forming small discussion circles. I guided them toward other parts of the gallery and answered a few technical questions about the restoration methods used on the displayed artworks. But I couldn't shake the Moon Painting out of my head-or the man who had stood near it just minutes ago.

Once I finished with the last group, I returned to the Moon Painting with another set of guests.

One middle-aged man from the group stepped closer and asked, "Did the painter have a spiritual background?"

I gave him a polite smile. "I can't say for sure, Sir. What I do know is that this piece came from the collection of an old noble family. I only restored it. But judging by the brush technique and the materials used, yes... there is a certain energy that feels different about this painting."

"Exactly. I felt like... there's something hidden behind it," his wife whispered.

I didn't respond to that directly. Because deep down... I felt the same.

I continued explaining the other paintings to them. After they walked off, I returned to the Moon Painting. I needed to take a closer look-just to make sure what I saw earlier wasn't just a shadow.

This time, I inspected it more carefully. My fingers traced the back corners of the canvas, pretending I was checking for last-minute touch-ups, when really, I was just staring at the image on it. But when I touched the bottom edge of the frame, I felt something thin slip between the wooden layers.

An old piece of paper.

I frowned slightly, then pulled it out slowly. It was yellowed, the edges brittle like it had been left in a damp place for too long. There was no visible writing-at least, not at first. But when I held it under the display light, faint patterns appeared-circles and strange lines in the center. Not writing. More like... engravings resembling symbols or specific images.

My index finger touched the surface. Instantly, a cold sensation shot through my arm. Not just any cold. A chill that pierced right into the bone. It felt... like a jolt of electricity.

I held my breath. "Is this part of the original piece?" I whispered, though I didn't expect an answer.

But before I could examine it further, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Instinctively, I slipped the paper into my notebook and closed it quickly.

I looked back at the painting.

And right then-again.

The faint pair of eyes etched into the fog of the painting shimmered for a second. Like dew reflecting the dim light of the hall. Just a blink. But it was clear.

My jaw dropped slightly. I looked around again. And once again... no one reacted. No one noticed anything.

Was this some kind of restoration effect? Or...

I turned toward where Kaelan had been standing. And he was still looking at me.

His gaze wasn't calm anymore. This time, there was confusion. A hint of worry. But also... something like recognition?

My heart sank.

Could it be that... he saw it too? Did he know something about this painting?

I looked away, trying to refocus on my duties. But the questions wouldn't stop spinning in my head.

***

It was almost 9 p.m. now. The number of guests was thinning. Classical piano music still played softly in the background, mixed with the occasional clink of glasses and quiet conversations.

I thanked the last group of guests, then walked to the drinks table. My hand trembled a little as I poured water. Maybe from exhaustion. Or... maybe something else.

"Rhea, are you okay?" asked Kira, one of the young curators who'd been helping me tonight.

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just a bit sore," I said, gently massaging my shoulder.

"That last group was a little intense, huh? Asking about the painter's inspiration and all that-even though you clearly said you only restored it."

I chuckled softly. "Happens all the time. You know how it is-people who love art always want to dig into its backstory before they buy anything."

"You're right."

I went quiet again, just playing with the glass in my hand.

Kira must've noticed, because she gently touched my arm. "You look really uneasy, Rhea. Did something happen? Did one of the guests make you uncomfortable?"

I turned to her. I almost told her that I'd seen something strange. That the famous guy standing in front of the painting made my heart race in a way I didn't understand. That afterward, my thoughts went completely haywire. But of course, I couldn't say any of that to Kira. I just gave her a small smile instead.

"No, Kira. I'm fine. I just need some fresh air. You know I'm not used to being in crowded places. That's why I'm drained."

She nodded understandingly. "Take a break and recharge. I'll keep an eye on things here."

I nodded and quickly left the main hall, walking down a narrow hallway toward the storage room. It was quieter there. No music, no eyes on me. Just the sound of my own breathing.

I sat down and leaned against the wall, trying to calm the racing beat of my heart. I closed my eyes, but the moment darkness settled in, I found myself thinking about Kaelan's gaze-and... that scent. The scent that, for some reason, felt so warm yet also gave me goosebumps.

Then, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned instinctively, like I was expecting someone.

And damn it, I was hoping it was Kaelan.

I let out a deep sigh. It was just a gallery staff member passing by with a box of catalogs. And when I realized that, I suddenly felt... disappointed.

Why would I feel disappointed? Kaelan and I don't even know each other.

"What's happening to me...?" I whispered, shaking my head a little.

I've never believed in anything metaphysical. I believe in art. In time. In restoration through clear, measurable techniques. Those things are real to me.

But tonight... it felt like I was being pulled into something I couldn't explain.

That painting. That man. That feeling. And... that scent.

***

After I calmed down a bit, I returned to the main hall. Most of the guests had already left. Just a few people lingered near the buffet or took photos to capture the moment.

I looked at the Moon Painting once more. I stood close enough to see the details of the mist spreading across the canvas edges. That scent... came back... faint, but still there.

"Looks like the guests are starting to leave," I said to Kira and Lina.

The two women, who had been standing near an abstract painting by a famous Spanish artist, came over to me. "Yeah," Kira replied.

Lina nodded too. "I think Kaelan's already gone."

"That hockey player?"

Lina nodded again. "Yep."

Kira turned to me, as if remembering something. "Oh... right, I almost forgot. He actually came up to me earlier."

"Did he want to buy a painting?" Lina asked.

Kira shook her head. "Nope. The painting stuff was already handled by his manager. He came to me for something else."

"What kind of something?" Lina asked, confused.

Kira looked back at me-her gaze more intense now. "He asked for your phone number, Rhea."

"Mine? Why?" I asked, equally confused.

"He said there was something important he wanted to talk to you about-something to do with the painting's restoration. So... I gave it to him."

Right after Kira said that, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

[No Name]

No Name: We're not done yet, Miss Hale.

-K

I stared at the screen for a long time before even thinking about replying or closing it. My heart had already started pounding again.

I didn't know who he really was. Or what that message meant.

But for the first time... I wanted to find out.

And that was the scariest part of all.

***

(Rhea's POV)

I stayed still, staring at the phone screen that was still lit. The message was short, but it felt heavy.

"We're not done yet, Miss Hale."

I reread it over and over again, as if hoping the meaning would change. But it didn't. The words stuck in my head like paint that hadn't dried yet-fragile, but lingering.

"What does he even mean...?"

My hands trembled as I slipped my phone into my bag. The air inside the gallery hall felt colder than before, or maybe it was just my body being overly sensitive to everything tonight. I glanced back at the painting of the Moon. Those golden eyes... that shimmer I'd seen more than once, still danced in my mind, like it was alive behind layers of paint and time.

"Lina, what do you think... about that moon painting?" I asked without taking my eyes off it.

Lina turned to look at the painting too. "It's beautiful. Like a surrealist piece with a mysterious atmosphere. The loneliness in it feels so strong. Like you're standing alone in a fog."

I nodded in agreement. "This painting feels like a nightmare, but a beautiful one," I added.

"Rhea," Lina called.

I turned quickly. "Hmm?"

"Are you sure you're okay? You look really pale."

I nodded. "I'm just tired. You know how fast my energy drains when I'm in crowded places too long."

Lina gave me a sympathetic look and rubbed my arm. "Then go home. Get some rest early. I'll take care of everything here."

I nodded. "Thank you so much, Lina, for understanding."

"It's nothing."

I got up right away. "I'll stop by to see Mrs. Elka first to get permission to leave. Thanks again, Lina."

"Anytime, Rhea. Be careful on your way home. Call me if anything happens."

I tried to smile to reassure her, even though deep down, I wasn't sure myself.

There was something heavy sitting on my chest, and I wasn't even sure I could explain it. Not to anyone. Not even to myself.

***

The sky over Elaria was overcast that night. Streetlights reflected off the asphalt, still damp from the afternoon rain. The scent of wet earth filled the air, blending with the chill that nipped at my fingertips.

I walked quickly toward my car parked behind the gallery building. My shoes made soft tapping sounds on the pavement, but still... the silence of the night felt like it was creeping too deep into my skin. Like it was holding something in.

I opened the car door and got in. Just as I set my bag down on the passenger seat, my phone vibrated again.

A second message.

[No Name]

No Name: I know this is confusing. But I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.

-K

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then glanced at the rearview mirror. No one was there. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Again.

My palms were sweaty, despite the cold air.

With hesitant fingers, I typed a reply.

Me: What is it you actually want?

The reply came fast. Way too fast. Like he had been waiting for me.

[No Name]

No Name: Just to talk. That's all. I can meet you tomorrow-wherever you choose-before I get busy again with match schedules.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second.

Even without meeting him, just getting a message from him already made my body tense-like a violin string pulled too tight.

"Why do I react like this around this guy? Is it because he's famous? Or... is it something else that people don't know?"

It didn't feel like it was about fame. Not about the fact that he's Kaelan Viero. Maybe it was about something I couldn't see-something invisible, but deeply felt. Like a soft current of electricity running just beneath my skin.

I decided not to reply just yet.

Today had been too long. I needed sleep.

Or at least... I needed to try to sleep.

***

But of course, I didn't sleep tonight. Not even close.

I just lay there, staring at the ceiling of my apartment, listening to the sound of the rain that had started again, washing over the windows in a steady rhythm. Usually, the sound of rain calms me. But not tonight.

My thoughts kept racing-about Kaelan, about that painting, about the strange scent that felt oddly... familiar. About those golden eyes. About that brief touch in the stadium hallway. About the way he looked at me like I was some kind of puzzle he had to solve-and I didn't even know I was a puzzle.

I turned on the small bedside lamp and sat up. My chest felt tight. Not from fear. But from confusion. Because... this irrational feeling was getting harder and harder to shake.

I reached over to the table and picked up the piece of paper I'd found earlier that day, tucked behind the canvas of the Moon painting. Bits of dried paint still clung to its edges. The paper was blank-almost. But if you looked closely, there were faint markings... like a symbol. Like a carving, but not ink.

I'd tried searching for the shape in the restoration database. Nothing came up. I even checked through books of ancient symbols and artistic markings. Nothing. That symbol wasn't in any catalog I'd studied for years.

I gently ran my finger over it. And the moment my skin touched the surface, that pulsing ache in my head came back. Soft but piercing. Just like the first time I touched the painting.

There's something in that painting. Something no art theory or artifact history can explain.

And Kaelan... somehow, he's connected to it.

I know something in me has changed.

And Kaelan Viero... somehow, he's part of that change.

I was sure of it.

Until another message suddenly popped up on my phone.

I opened it right away. And again-it was from Kaelan.

[No Name]

No Name: Don't look into that painting on your own unless you're ready to dive much deeper.

I froze.

My eyes stayed fixed on the message. My fingers holding the phone began to tighten.

How does he know?

How does he know I'm looking into something?

How could he possibly know about the paper?

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I hadn't told anyone about this. Not Lina. Not Kira. No one saw me slip that paper into my notebook. No one knew... unless someone already knew.

My hands began to shake. I put the phone down on the table and stared at my own reflection in the window glass.

Outside, the rain started falling harder, like it was trying to wash away all sound from the world.

But inside, my mind was loud.

"What do you mean, Kaelan? Are you warning me? Or... threatening me?" I whispered.

I didn't know whether to feel scared or trust him. But one thing I did know-I couldn't pretend like nothing was happening anymore.

That object, that painting, and that man... I was absolutely certain they were all connected, forming a thread that was slowly wrapping itself around me.

***

(Rhea's POV)

The rain hadn't stopped when I stepped out of my apartment the next morning.

Gray clouds hung low, pressing down on the rooftops. The cold air slipped through the gaps in the scarf wrapped around my neck, seeping all the way to my bones. My black umbrella blocked most of the downpour, but every splash bouncing off the street still managed to soak the hem of my pants and my shoes.

My steps matched the rhythm of raindrops on the canvas-tap, tap, tap-but instead of calming me, the sound made my heartbeat race faster. Normally, I'd love a morning like this; the city quiet, the air fresh, the scent of wet earth mixing with the smell of coffee from cafes just opening. But today... something felt different.

Something that had been sitting in my chest since last night.

The phone in my pocket stayed silent.

No message from Kaelan.

Weird.

Last night, he'd replied to my texts so fast, like he was just sitting there waiting for me to respond. Now, it's like he vanished. And the strange part was, instead of feeling relieved that this stranger had stopped contacting me... I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I didn't know why his last message kept replaying in my head. The words felt heavier than they should-like a warning deliberately left hanging.

I took a deep breath and quickened my pace. A car engine roared somewhere, a horn blared faintly at the intersection, but here on the sidewalk, I was alone. Every so often, I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see a shadow at the far end of the street. But every time I turned, there was only the wet pavement and rows of still-closed shops.

***

The Elaria Gallery stood quietly at the corner. The old gray-stone building looked even gloomier under the cloudy sky. The porch light glowed dimly, reflecting off puddles in the rain.

The key turned in the front door, the old hinges creaked softly as I pushed it open. The gallery's familiar scent wrapped around me-aged wood, a faint trace of dust, and the lingering smell of oil paint in the air. Outside, the rain muffled the world, leaving a silence that felt... too thick.

I hung my jacket on the rack by the door, dropped my umbrella into the metal stand meant for visitors, then walked into the main hall. The wooden floor groaned quietly under my shoes. Ceiling track lights lit the artworks on the walls, casting soft shadows that shifted as I passed.

My eyes went straight to one spot.

The Moon Painting.

It was still there, behind its protective glass, surrounded by black velvet ropes. Even from here, I could feel the gaze inside the painting-like a predator waiting.

I moved closer, my pace slowing without me realizing. From a certain angle, the mist in the background looked alive. So soft, almost invisible, yet enough to trick my mind into thinking it moved. And within that mist... a pair of golden eyes peeked out from between the trees.

I swallowed hard.

A strange sensation prickled at the back of my neck-like someone was standing there, watching me. I could almost imagine warm breath brushing against my skin.

"So you're still standing in front of that painting."

I flinched.

The voice came from behind. Deep, low, and far too familiar.

I turned quickly.

Kaelan stood just a few steps away. No hockey uniform, no roaring crowd, no cameras chasing him. Just a tall man in a dark shirt, broad shoulders, hair slightly damp from the rain, and those eyes-just as piercing as they had been in the stadium hallway that night.

"I don't remember giving you permission to come in here," I said quietly, trying to sound firm even though my heart was starting to race.

He didn't answer right away. He walked slowly, his steps almost soundless on the wooden floor. The light above fell across his shoulders, making him look like he'd stepped out of a painting himself.

"I told you... we're not done yet, Miss Hale."

"We?" I repeated, my voice edged with sarcasm. "You mean you're not done. I don't even know what you want. And I definitely don't remember having any business with you."

He stopped right in front of me. Way too close.

"I want you safe," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "And you're standing in the middle of something you don't even understand."

I lifted my chin slightly. "You talk like I'm some clueless kid."

"Not like-" he cut in quickly. "You really don't know anything."

My eyes narrowed. "Then explain. What is it that I don't know?"

He was silent. His jaw tightened, his gaze heavy. "Not here. Not now."

"Why?" I challenged.

"Because there are people who want what's in that painting, and they'll come after you to get it. We need to talk somewhere else."

"I'm not-"

"Please."

Just that one word.

His tone shifted-not a command, not a threat, but a request that carried weight. And somehow, that was enough to make me hesitate.

I drew a slow breath. "Then just tell me... what do you know about this painting?"

Kaelan stared at me for a long time. Long enough that I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. Finally, he said, "Enough to know that if you stay alone, you won't last long."

Lightning flashed outside, its light glinting off the glass frame. Rain pounded harder against the roof.

And for the first time, I began to believe-maybe this man wasn't just here to bother me.

Maybe he was trying to save me.

But... from what?

I stepped back, putting some space between us. "If you really want me safe, stop talking in riddles."

He leaned in slightly, his voice almost a whisper. "That riddle... is the reason you're still alive right now."

I frowned, but before I could say anything, the front door creaked.

A man in a worn raincoat stood in the doorway. Half his face was hidden under his hat. He didn't come in-just glanced briefly in our direction, or more precisely, at the Moon Painting. Then he closed the door slowly and disappeared into the rain.

A chill ran down my spine. "Who was that?"

Kaelan looked at the door, his jaw tightening again. "Someone who's not supposed to know about this place."