CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3

"Is there a hurry?"

"No, but come pick up the painting first."

"And you're saying there's no hurry?"

"You can collect it after closing your shop. I'll have Elise wait for you."

"Okay. Send me the location."

The call ended without so much as a goodbye.

A moment later, Pun's phone vibrated with a message from the very person who had just disrupted his evening plans. Opening it, he found the location Jett had sent—a place nearly forty minutes outside the capital, hidden along a rural road often used as a shortcut out of the province.

Pun Winnala glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen.

Less than an hour remained before closing time.

Deciding there was no point starting anything new, he shut down the computer in front of him. He gathered the scattered documents on his desk and dropped them into a small basket before rising from his chair.

The tall, slender man stretched until his joints cracked loudly.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply as he clasped his hands above his head. Then he slowly lowered them while exhaling, trying to clear his mind after staring at screens and paperwork for most of the day.

The sign outside was flipped to CLOSED.

He secured the door latch and checked it twice before peering through the large front window to make sure he hadn't forgotten to switch off any lights.

Satisfied, Pun headed toward the car parked beside the building.

He had originally planned to continue organizing the shop after closing, but if he delayed any longer, he would reach Jett's gallery after sunset.

The engine started with a low rumble.

His hand shifted the gear into reverse as he backed out of the parking space and followed the route displayed on his phone's GPS.

Forty minutes.

Assuming he didn't get lost.

Thankfully, the destination wasn't in the city center. Otherwise, he would have spent another hour trapped in traffic with aching legs and a growing headache.

The drive was surprisingly peaceful.

The scenery gradually shifted from busy streets to quieter roads lined with trees and open fields.

Pun hummed softly along with the music playing through the speakers.

As the car approached the final turn before reaching its destination, a familiar song filled the cabin.

Wise men say...

Only fools rush in...

A smile tugged at his lips.

Pun had always loved old songs.

Perhaps it was because he owned an antique shop.

Most of his playlists consisted of music from decades ago.

But I can't help...

Falling in love with you...

His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel in rhythm with the melody.

Less than two hundred meters remained before he reached the destination marked on the GPS.

Ahead stood a gallery hidden behind an overgrown garden.

His foot pressed gently against the brake pedal as an iron gate decorated with curling vines came into view.

The gate stood wide open.

But there was no sign of Elise waiting for him.

Pun pulled his phone from the dashboard holder and searched through his recent calls before dialing Jett.

The call connected almost immediately.

"Hi, Jett."

"If you're already here, just go inside."

"Where's Elise?"

"She's around somewhere. The painting is on the second floor. You'll see it."

"Alright."

The call ended.

Again, without a goodbye.

Pun shook his head.

He should have been used to Jett's impulsive personality by now.

After turning off the engine, he stepped out of the car and approached the neglected gallery.

Technically, the sun hadn't set yet.

But with winter approaching, daylight seemed eager to leave earlier each evening.

Golden light stretched across the horizon, preparing to disappear.

His white sneakers clicked softly against the marble pathway leading toward the building.

The wall to his right was decorated with intricate Gothic carvings.

There was something strangely captivating about the place.

The silence.

The neglect.

The feeling that every corner concealed a forgotten story.

Pun's light-brown eyes wandered across the surroundings with growing curiosity.

Then he stopped.

At the center of the overgrown garden stood an unusual sculpture.

Large trees and creeping vines nearly concealed it from view.

The statue resembled a crucified figure.

Yet unlike any depiction of Jesus he had ever seen, this one possessed wings and was wrapped in coils of barbed wire.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

A crow suddenly burst from a nearby bush.

Pun jumped slightly.

The sharp cries pulled him back to reality just as the clock struck six in the evening.

The familiar time signal reminded him why he had come.

Without further delay, he hurried toward the gallery.

The building's architecture reflected a strange blend of Roman and Islamic influences.

Each footstep echoed through the empty halls.

It didn't take long before he reached the second floor.

"Is it on the ground?"

"Take a look around."

Since there was no guide and he wasn't familiar with the layout, Pun simply followed the nearest corridor.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on his side.

Only a short distance from the staircase, he spotted a large Rococo-style frame lying on the floor.

He crouched beside it to inspect the damage.

The glass had shattered.

The frame was cracked.

And worse, the painting itself appeared to have suffered damage from the broken shards.

A plaque mounted on the nearby wall identified the artwork.

The Vampire of Greenmoore

Pun opened his messenger bag and removed several restoration tools.

Carefully, he began brushing away dust, cobwebs, and debris that obscured the painting's surface.

As the dirt gradually disappeared, the image beneath became clearer.

And with every passing second, Pun's curiosity grew stronger.

A young man stared back from the canvas.

Pun frowned.

His heart began beating faster.

For some reason, the face seemed familiar.

The sensation became so overwhelming that he unconsciously exhaled through parted lips.

One by one, he removed the remaining shards of glass.

A pale face.

Thin lips.

Features that seemed strangely familiar.

Then—

Black eyes.

Eyes so dark they seemed capable of swallowing everything around them.

Pun froze.

His gaze remained locked on the portrait.

A strange fascination seized him.

The painted figure appeared bound in chains, yet there was something hypnotic about his expression.

Something impossible to ignore.

"W-Why...?"

Pun swallowed hard.

He couldn't understand it.

There was no logical explanation.

Yet the man in the painting looked remarkably similar to the mysterious stranger who appeared in his dreams night after night.

The image in his dreams had always been blurry.

But those sculpted features...

Those eyes...

He remembered them.

His hands began trembling.

The cleaning brush slipped from his grasp and landed against the frame.

The sound jolted him back to reality.

Still shaken, he reached down to retrieve it.

In his distraction, his finger brushed against a jagged piece of broken glass.

"Oh!"

Pain shot through his fingertip.

He quickly lifted his hand and examined the small cut.

Fortunately, he always carried bandages with him.

As a bright red drop of blood formed at the wound, Pun reached into his bag with his other hand, searching for a Band-Aid.

Completely unaware of what was about to happen.

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