Oh my goodness..." Carden froze, the breath caught in his throat as his eyes traced the portrait. There she was- the woman whose beauty seemed too ethereal to belong to the mortal world. Skin pale and delicate like freshly fallen snow. Grey curls cascading over her shoulders in perfect, soft waves, framing the kind of face painters could spend lifetimes trying to capture. She looked like a snow queen sculpted from winter itself- elegant, untouchable, devastatingly flawless. Her long, silky night-lingerie clung to her curves in a way that made her seem both innocent and sinful. Her eyes-icy blue and impossibly clear-held the depth of a sea goddess, calling, tempting, pulling anyone who dared to look too long. And her face... God, her face. It shimmered with the gentle glow of moonlight dancing on the surface of a quiet ocean-soft, haunting, and heartbreakingly pure. One look at her, and the world around him simply stopped. silent. "Wow, this is beautiful," Carlos said, cutting the silence. "How could an artist be this good? I'm amazed by the motivation behind this piece. I'm not gonna lie-I would sell it for a million dollars. It looks so real and captivating." "Yes, you're right. But there's something interesting about this piece," the gallery man added. "Rumor says she's real." "She's real...?" Carden muttered, still in awe. "Yes, she is. Rumor has it she stays kilometers away in a mansion. She isn't an imaginary painting. She lives. That's why people love buying this piece." "Wow... she's damn gorgeous. No, no, I don't believe she's real. Such a goddess can't be real," Carlos said in amazement, still staring at the portrait. "I know, right?" the gallery man continued. "They said she's a virgin-she hasn't been touched by a man. Her owner restricts her from seeing or getting close to any man. And if a man mistakenly holds her hand, the owner demands an arrest with a high charge of defamation, then sends for a priest to pray for her. He believes the girl's innocence is the reason her portraits sell so much. Only priests are allowed near her." "The portrait is beautiful, and the story behind it is mind-blowing," Carlos added, then noticed his friend looking lost, staring at the portrait like he had seen a ghost. "Carden... Carden!" he called. "Are you okay?" Carden jolted out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine." "How much did you say this piece is again?" he asked the man. "One hundred thousand dollars," the man replied. Carden hesitated for a moment, like something was calculating in his mind. "It's the last piece of this portrait I have for now," the man continued. "And I don't know how long it will take to get another. It's rare in the market." "I'll buy this one," Carden said. Carlos stared at him, shocked, unable to imagine why his friend would buy a portrait for a hundred thousand dollars. "You are crazy, man! Don't tell me you want to buy it. I know it's beautiful and captivating, but that's not enough reason to spend that much on a painting!" Carlos said angrily. "You won't understand, Carlos. I'll explain later," Carden replied, bringing out his phone to make the transfer. "Which method of payment do you accept, sir? I really need this painting." The gallery man smiled happily at the success of his sale. "Let's go to the front desk. I'll give you the details there." "Okay," Carden said. "Please come with the painting." He urged Carlos-already upset-to walk out of the dusty room. The man nodded, carrying the painting behind them as they walked out. At the front desk, he gave Carden the company account. Carden made the transfer with a big smile on his face, which made Carlos grow even angrier. He still couldn't understand why his friend would spend so much on a painting. "I've seen it. Thank you a lot, gentlemen," the man said, handing the portrait to Carden-who refused home delivery and chose to take it himself. He smiled as the portrait was placed in his hands. He looked at it closely, smiling with satisfaction. As they were about to leave, he turned back to the man. "Do you know the location of the mansion?" he asked. The man replied, "I heard it's in the heart of Sicily. It's heavily armed and owned by a powerful and dreadful man. The whole of Sicily fears him because of the men he controls. He has many people doing dirty work for him. He doesn't tolerate mistakes. One wrong move, and he pulls the trigger. He doesn't give second chances to anyone who betrays him. I also heard he once killed a man who took a flower from his garden." "He killed a man because of a flower?" Carden asked. "Yes, he did. He's very possessive of his property. The only person he fears is a priest. He believes their prayers bring redemption to him. Even if he decides to kill the whole city, he believes that once he goes for confession, his sins are forgiven." "Wow... that's crazy for him to believe," Carden said. "Yes, it's crazy. Sins can't be forgiven just because of confession," the man replied. "C'mon, man... let's go," Carlos said sharply, standing near the exit, trying hard not to lose his temper over the price Carden paid. Carden looked at him, then turned to thank the gallery man once more for the information and even tipped him generously. He walked up to the angry Carlos, smiling like someone who just won a lottery. "Let's go, man," he said, boarding a taxi. ⸻ In the Taxi Carlos finally broke the silence. "Why the hell did you buy this portrait for a hundred thousand bucks? Seems you don't know what to do with your money. Why don't you give me some?!" Carden stayed silent, holding the portrait and smiling happily. "I'm talking to you, man!" Carlos said again. Carden finally spoke. "You think I'd do something this insane without a proper reason?" He kept smiling, eyes still on the portrait. Then he turned slowly to Carlos. "I'm going to have a peaceful night's sleep from now on... because I found her." His eyes went back to the portrait. "She's the lady in my dream." Carlos shifted backward in shock. "You said what?!"

"I don't get you, bro. Carlos asked. The goddess in this portrait is the girl in your dream? Really?" The taxi halted to a stop. Carden reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to the driver. They stepped out and walked into their apartment. Carden was still smiling, and Carlos continued questioning him all the way to their room, but Carden said nothing-just smiled like a man possessed. Inside their room. "Come on, man, say something," Carlos finally insisted. "Yes, she is," Carden said, turning to him. "Do you think I'd spend a hundred thousand dollars on a painting without a good reason?" His eyes drifted back to the portrait immediately. The painting showed a girl in a white nightgown standing beside a window, as if waiting for someone-waiting for a savior. Her room looked luxurious, yet she seemed pale and unhappy, even though her skin glowed like moonlight touching the sea. "The moment I saw the portrait, I remembered the dreams," Carden continued. "It shocked me. She's real. She looks exactly like the woman who's been haunting my sleep. A goddess... trapped. I didn't pay that money just for the painting. I did it because I need information about her. And from what the gallery man said, she's a lady in distress." Carlos sighed heavily. "Well, it's your money. I believe you know what you're doing. At least now you won't be dealing with those nightmares anymore. Whatever you decide, bro, I'm here to support you." Carden smiled. "Thanks, man. Really." "You're welcome. But how do you plan to reach her? What's the next move?" Carlos asked. Carden exhaled. "I don't know. The owner of this lady seems powerful. Dangerous. According to the gallery guy, he has men everywhere." "Did he tell you where the man lives?" Carlos asked. "Yes. A mansion in the heart of Sicily. He lives there with her. The place is heavily guarded. He doesn't let her near anyone. And if a man touches her, he calls a priest to pray for her. He thinks her innocence is the reason her portraits sell for so much. He kills anyone who gets close-even someone who picks a flower from his garden. The only person he fears is the priest." "Hmm... this man sounds scary. Trust me," Carlos muttered. "He is. But I need to know what this lady wants... why she keeps invading my dreams," Carden said firmly. "You're right. And you said the only person he fears is a priest?" Carlos asked slowly. "Yeah..." Carden said, looking at him. Then his eyes widened. "No. No way. Don't say it." "That's the only way you can get close to her," Carlos replied with a straight face. "You have to pretend to be a priest. Otherwise, you'll have to sneak in-and that's suicide. I don't want to lose you." Carden stared at the portrait, deep in thought. Then he turned back. "You're right... So how do I become the priest that visits the mansion?" "Leave that to me," Carlos smirked. "But first, you need to learn how to act like a priest without blowing your cover." "I love you, man," Carden said gratefully. "You're welcome," Carlos replied, grinning. "Let me get us something to drink. We need to celebrate, because soon you'll be Father Carden." He joked as he walked to the mini-bar to pour some whiskey. Carden laughed. "Soon," he said, holding the portrait like it was the most precious thing in the world. Later That Night – The Dream Carden saw the woman again-standing miles away, reaching out to him. "Come quickly... come get me," her voice echoed, faint but urgent. He tried to speak, but he couldn't hear his own voice. She drifted farther away. "You're close now... please come," she whispered. He reached for her, but she kept slipping from his grasp. He gasped and opened his eyes. "Another dream..." he whispered, still lying on the bed. "Now I know I'm close. I have her portrait." He turned to look at it hanging beside his bed. "Hold on, stranger... I'm coming," he said softly, before closing his eyes again. In the Mansion A girl sat on a stool facing a mirror, slowly combing her curly hair. Her skin was pale and glowing, her lips red like strawberries. Her blue eyes stared back at her reflection-perfect face, perfect figure. Her portraits hung everywhere in the room. Luxury surrounded her, but she looked anything but happy. "Anna," a man's voice called. She turned to look at him. "The priest is here. You shouldn't have let him hold your hands. I told you to stay away from Mr. Douglas, and now you let him touch you. You need the priest to pray for you, You look unclean to me". She turned toward him crying,"I don't want to be here. Let me go back to my parents. At least it was peaceful there..." "Anna, don't be ungrateful, this beauty of yours is not meant for the countryside," the tall man said, walking toward her slowly. His hair was white, and everything about him screamed wealth and authority. He held a cold silver walking stick. His face hardened. "Don't be ungrateful, dear. Uncle knows what's best for you, at least you are helping your parents to live a better life," he said calmly, but his eyes carried warning. "Don't keep the priest waiting my dear." Anna stood reluctantly, tears welling in her eyes. "Okay, Uncle Arnold..." "And clean your eyes," he added sharply. "Not a word of this to anyone. Not even the priest. Or your parents will pay with their lives." She nodded quickly and walked out, wiping her tears. Arnold stayed behind, staring at his reflection with pride and cruelty. "No one disobeys me," he murmured, smiling wickedly.

"Peace unto this household," Carden said as he stepped into their sitting room, looking at Carlos, who wouldn't stop laughing at him in that priestly attire. He wore a black robe with a small white collar around his collarbone, a fake rosary around his neck, a cross in his left hand, and a Bible in his right hand. Nerdy glasses sat on his eyes as he looked at Carlos, who kept laughing ridiculously. "Man, this is silly. I can't pretend to be like a priest just because of a woman. It doesn't fit my aesthetic." "You don't have a choice, Carden. Any other disguise you choose after this would be suicidal," Carlos said. Carden sighed heavily, like someone without a choice-because he truly had none. "If you say so, Carlos... but still, it's insane." "I know," Carlos replied. "I got something that would brighten your mood." Carden's smile brightened. "You do? Meaning I won't be disguising as a priest?" "Not that. Your disguise still stands." Carden's smile faded instantly. "I have a way of making it seem like you are a real priest. There's this friend of mine in Sicily. I called him and told him everything." "You did what?" Carden frowned. "Wait... I haven't gotten to the interesting part yet." Carlos continued, **"He said he has a way of making it seem like you're a real priest. He said he would pay off the priest that normally goes to that mansion to pray for your dream girl, and make him tell the girl's owner that he's being transferred. Then a new priest would take over his position. Boom-that's where you come in as the new priest without stress." Carden smiled again. "Yes... that's a brilliant idea." "Yes-and you'll be staying at a parish close to the mansion. So anytime you plan an escape, it'll be easier for you to sneak back to the parish," Carlos added. "This is beautiful. How did you manage to make your friend pull this off?" "I told him the girl is your long-time sister, and you need support to get her out of that mansion. I told him the owner kidnapped her when she was little and is using her as his money instrument," Carlos said, leaning back on the chair. "You're such a genius, Carlos. What would I have done without you?" Carden said, walking close for a hug. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Carlos joked as they hugged. "Now all you need to do is master your disguise," Carlos said as they pulled apart. "Yes," Carden said with a big smile. "Now walk back and act like the priest that you are," Carlos laughed. "It's not funny, Carlos. This robe looks ridiculous," Carden complained. "Yes it does," Carlos laughed loudly, "and now I will address you as Father Damien Narvick." "That's a good name. I'll take that," Carden said as he continued his rehearsals with Carlos' help. In the Mansion Anna was on a video call with her parents, pretending all was well. She couldn't tell them the stress she'd been going through all these years. She flashed back to when she was seven. Her father was struggling, working two jobs to keep the family fed. She didn't go to school because her father couldn't afford tuition fees for her and her brother-until her dad's brother, Uncle Arnold, called and said he wanted to take her to Sicily for a good education and a better life. At first, her dad hesitated-he knew Arnold wasn't someone who did good without getting something in return. He became even more suspicious when Arnold insisted he wanted only Anna. But he had no choice; he wanted the best for her, unaware that his decision would cost Anna her freedom. "Anna... Anna," a woman's voice called from the video. "Are you okay, darling?" She wanted to say no, but her uncle was standing opposite her, staring sternly like he was waiting for her to make a mistake so he could deal with her. She looked at her uncle for a while-his gaze was nothing but a warning. Anna turned back to her parents and forced a smile. "I'm fine, Mother. Work has been stressful. It's not easy modeling for different companies at a time." "Oh my dear, sorry about that. You are indeed strong," her mother said. She gasped inwardly. "I know," she said, trying to hide her tears. "Look at what your amazing career has given us-we are now the richest people in the countryside. It's amazing and a blessing to have such a beautiful daughter whose beauty is the talk of the town," her dad added proudly. She smiled faintly. "I'm glad you all are happy," she whispered. "I wish I would be someday..." She turned her face away from the camera so her parents wouldn't see her tears. Her mother noticed and asked again, "Are you sure you're okay?" She nodded. "I'm just happy you guys are good," she said, forcing a smile through teary eyes. "Okay," her mother said, still uneasy. "When can we visit you? I miss you, my little one." Anna looked at her uncle-he shook his head sharply, signaling no. She turned back to her parents. "Not yet, Mum. I still have a lot of companies to model for. If you come, I won't have time to spend with you. And you can't follow me to work because of company rules. So stay calm... I promise I will visit soon." Her uncle cut her off immediately. He walked into the call, greeted them, and told them Anna needed to go back to work. They said their goodbyes awkwardly and hung up. "You don't tell me when and how to talk to my parents!" Anna burst into tears. "Please let me go see them. Please!" Arnold stared at her and muttered, "Soon... I will arrange that. Only if you promise to be a good girl and don't say anything to them. You know the consequences if you do." Anna nodded, wiping her eyes. A heavy-built man walked in, handing a ringing cellphone to Arnold. "It's from the parish, sir." Arnold took the phone. "Hello, Father," he said. The voice responded; they talked, and he hung up. Feeling unstable and uncomfortable with what he'd just heard, Arnold clenched his fist and shouted sharply: "There will be a new priest!!!"