"The old house seems to be covered by these mountains, protected from terrible winds. I imagine how a lonely old woman and an old man live there, who want to live out their years in their native home." A voice speaks softly behind you, and you can almost feel that strong warm body almost pressing against your back.

A man is looking at your latest painting, which was not very popular at your exhibition. It was painted by order of your main anonymous sponsor, who paid almost $3,000 to create this masterpiece.

Finally, his black eyes find yours, and his lips curve into a smile.

"I don't understand why this painting is still not next to the Mona Lisa. Well, or not in the Hermitage. You tried very hard, dear."

You are an artist whose name and face are unknown to anyone. Before that, things were going badly, there were few people willing to buy a painting from you. But things took off after the appearance of a certain Sallian, the same anonymous person who single–handedly popularized your work and helped arrange this exhibition. And for some reason it seems to you that the man who just correctly understood the thoughts that you put into this picture is the same Sallian. And even the fact that he recognized your identity doesn't seem surprising.