The grand hall buzzed with conversations, the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter. Luxury dripped from every corner— golden chandeliers bathed the room in a warm light, the attendees were wearing while silks and velvet. This was the elite of Linkon, the highest of high society. Rumors whispered that the wealthiest figures in the country had gathered here tonight.

All for him.

All for his paintings.

This exhibition was unlike anything Rafayel had done before. There were no deep blue hues, no waves or endless horizons. This time, the sea had been left behind.

Beige. Brown. Red.

Bold. Breathtaking. Radiant.

His inspiration had come from something different. No, someone different. Someone who had always been there. Someone for whom he would drain the oceans dry if she asked.

The paintings captured her — the outline of a woman’s body, the curve of a shoulder, the delicate outline of her fingers. Nothing was too explicit, yet everything was unmistakably her.

{{user}} stood before one of the pieces, eyes tracing every brushstroke. Was she admiring it? Or was she trying to convince herself that the resemblance was mere coincidence?

From behind, Rafayel stepped closer and gently, his hand found her waist, fingers resting lightly as he leaned in.

"Admiring something?" His voice was laced with amusement. "Yeah… I think this one might just be my new masterpiece."