Chapter 3 Lost and Short Story of a Guy

Chapter 3

I glanced at the two men and saw them wiping their tears, just as I did the same.

"You're not just a great painter. You're smart and you understand love..." one of them said, and I understood what he meant, wanting me to finish his thought.

"That not all love is enough if it's only felt. It also requires action, effort, and a physical presence," I added, and the old man nodded at me.

"I'm amazed. You speak with wisdom. You deserve to be recognized as the best and most talented painter. You don't just paint beautiful things, but also reflect what we see. We must also focus on the bad memories because those were the beginnings of who we are now," he said, and his words deeply moved me.

He signaled to someone, and they quickly approached him. The person took something out of a suitcase, but I didn't look-lest they think I was being nosy.

But I was overjoyed that someone noticed my artwork! Oh my God!

"Miss?"

"Miss Rea, sir. Rea Enero Suwaib," I introduced myself, and the old man smiled at me. He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

My eyes widened when I read it. "S-Sir..."

"Did you know that this actually happened in real life? And that last painting-that was the final scene I shared with my beloved, right after I gave her a single rose," he said, his voice cracking as he tried to hold back his tears.

"Dad..."

"And I want to buy all of these. Thank you, because through your art, I was able to relive the moments I had with my wife."

I nodded and wiped my tears... Wow. I can finally build my own studio. They are incredibly wealthy.

"H-Haven't you just been caught up in the moment, Sir? One m-million? Isn't that too much? We painters only estimated the price to be around 5K. What you paid me is too much. I feel like I can't accept it," I tearfully said as I wiped the tears from my cheek.

I couldn't believe what I read on the yellow paper. Not just 500, no. I mean, the off-white paper he handed to me with the guest's signature.

"Engineer Denbrill Arkun Brilliantes," I said, marveling at his long and elegant name.

It was a fancy name, clearly showing that they were wealthy. But a million? That's too much.

"Most people know me as Don Brill. I've long since retired from that field, my dear. Many of my grandchildren will inherit the business that I've held onto for so long," he said.

Wait, why is he telling me about that? Sir Denbrill, or rather Don Brill, is quite friendly.

We just met, and he's already telling me about his grandchildren.

Where are they, so I can meet them?

"Are you planning to stay in this province? Not that I'm belittling your place, no. I just think you need a bigger world, so to speak, to allow more people to discover your talent as a painter. Luck opens its doors to people like you, so don't hide yourself in the dark world you've created," he said meaningfully, and I understood what he meant.

"Thank you very much, Sir. You're the only one who appreciates my artwork. Thank you so much."

"There are many more of us, my dear. You just haven't met them yet. Someday, everyone will look up to you, and I will be one of them," he said to me. That's just too much!

"Can I ask you one question, Miss Rea?" asked Don Brill's son. He was handsome, even though he was older. He was tall and looked like he was still in his 30s.

I wonder what his children look like? Are they handsome or beautiful too? What a great lineage. Oh, good God. Even just one-please introduce one to me.

"Of course! What is it?" I asked with a smile, clutching the check Sir Denbrill gave me, which contained one million. Unbelievable, right?

I watched as his hand slowly rose and pointed to a painting that wasn't included for sale. It was just on display.

"What does that mean? 'Beauty and Secret,'" he asked, his brows furrowed. It was just a small painting, so it wasn't exactly eye-catching.

The colors of my paint were black and white. I didn't expect that he would notice it.

I glanced at the elderly man, Sir Denbrill, who suddenly coughed loudly.

I looked at him with concern, and so did his son. "I'm fine. It's nothing," he said with a nod, also glancing at the painting that had piqued his son's curiosity.

I smiled as I looked back at my painting. "A figure of a tall man, filled with sadness, envy, and a thirst for attention. A woman who hides in men's clothing, a shadow of her creation of a new identity that only she knows. A beauty seen in the form of a man, secretly carrying a burden on his chest and appearing to be punished. A secret she has long embraced but has struggled with, reluctant to do things that could ruin her life and reputation. A woman who did something against her will, because being a man in the eyes of the masses was not what she wanted, but it was the only way for everyone to accept her. They are one and the same, a secret that cannot be revealed as it would affect many," I explained at length.

I had this... creepy dream about a woman hiding in men's clothing. That woman was filled with envy, sadness, and pain. She was also thirsty for attention from the people important to her.

I'm not just called a wicked painter, but a creepy one too. Where do I get my ideas for subjects? One from my dreams and the other from reality. Just based on what I see and experience.

That's why the main theme of my work is death and life. After all, not all life is colorful. There are also dark experiences. Whether we admit it or not, everyone will experience that, and everyone will eventually reach that point.

I looked at my painting again. A man standing in a side view, carrying a suitcase. Behind him was the shadow of a woman wearing a long dress, with her long hair seemingly blown by the wind.

It was black and white, but to make it different, I used red ink for the background.

"H-Haven't you wondered... what does the background color mean? Why red instead of blue, the color of the sky?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"It doesn't have any particular meaning, Sir," I said with a smile, turning to look at Sir Denbrill's son.

"When we meet again, I will paint something for you that you will never forget," I said meaningfully. I don't know, I just had the instinct to say it.

"There's no need for that," he replied nervously, raising his hand as if to signal me not to.

I nodded and focused my attention on the elderly man. He smiled when he saw me looking at him.

"I like the title of your painting and the story behind that guy-or rather, the girl who hides her true identity. Do you have the ability to see the past or present in someone you can only interact with?" My eyes widened at his question.

"I don't have a third eye, Sir! And I'm certainly not a fortune teller... That's creepy!" I exclaimed, hugging myself. Why did he say that?

"That painting?" he asked again, pointing at my painting that I had only made as an extra.

"That's just a product of my weird dream, Sir. It has no other meaning-"

"It's like love, my dear. If you don't express what's real, your love for someone will go nowhere." It's like you have to confess to someone so they're aware of your love for them? That's one way of interpreting what he said.

But in the end, what? After all, not all love is happy or ends in a happy ending. Tss.

Or should I express my feelings?

"Dad, let's go. Markin has been pestering me for a while now. We need to leave because my son is getting irritated," said his daughter, as she grabbed his arm.

"Why did that kid decide to stay outside?" he asked, glancing at me with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "If he hadn't, he could've met this talented painter." I think I blushed at what Sir said.

Are you trying to set me up with your grandson, Sir? Because I wouldn't say no. Haha. Just kidding.

"Dad," his daughter interrupted again.

"Alright, alright. It was a pleasure meeting you, dear. See you soon," he said, as if we would meet again someday. I just smiled and nodded in response.

"Congratulations, my grandchild!" my grandfather said happily, finally breaking his silence. I knew he and my other grandparent had been quietly listening the whole time.

They both hugged me tightly, clearly overjoyed. It seemed like my achievements were theirs as well.

Kapitana also congratulated me with a big smile as she spoke to us.

She said the person who bought my paintings wasn't just an ordinary guest. Apparently, they were wealthy and a businessperson. I already knew that because-well, they bought my artworks for a million.

So, who wouldn't be happy, emotional, and surprised?

"There's a party tonight. The Brilliantes father and son will still be attending. Come if you want, Rea. You're the luckiest painter to have caught the attention of those engineers. Their grandson is an engineer too, but he chose to stay by Leighton's side," Kapitana said, which made me think.

Who's this Leighton they're referring to? Are they an important person too?

"Wait a minute, Kapitana. Sir Denbrill gave me so much, so if you don't mind, may I-" I hadn't even finished speaking when she interrupted.

"That's yours, Rea. You don't owe anyone a share except your family. You worked hard for that," she said, but I didn't respond. Chars.

You can't refuse blessings, Kapitana.

I rummaged through my small bag for the check, but it felt like my soul was leaving my body and my heart started pounding when I couldn't find it.

I hadn't put my bag anywhere else, right?

So where's the yellow piece of paper that was given to me? Why can't I find it?

To Be Continued...