There was a streak of joy flowing in him whenever doing things with his brother while they were out of their strict father's sight.
It was at the first weekend nightfall when Toren had secretly gone out of their house through the pantry's back window. He had met Captain Brochille and asked for a hideout to settle in.
The soldier, hearing their situation at their household, hesitantly agreed and complied with the child's simple wish.
He told Toren that he would prepare everything and decided to meet at the same place the next first weekend.
Afterwards, Toren hid in the underground room and collected all his canvas sheets.
The paintings were still as mesmerizing and alive as he had first left them a week ago.
He endured another 6 days of ordeal under his father's patriarchal household rules and finally left at the night of the next weekend. Toren ran away, only carrying few of his paintings and materials with him and nothing else.
He had not bothered packing some clothes or foods or other personal belongings aside from those involved with his painting.
Captain Brochille offered the child a room in a dusty basement at his own house with several restricting conditions.
Toren did not care much about living comfortably, so he immediately agreed to whatever the soldier had imposed as his rules.
The next morning, the En family found out about Toren's missing whereabouts.
They all searched for him everywhere.
While Muren had angrily went out the streets to ask the neighbors if they had seen his second son, Airen and Coen descended down to the underground room, but had not found Toren.
All that was left was a few canvas sheets which had his least favorite paintings.
The picture of chrysanthemum, Muren's portrait, and a dystopian environment.
All the other beautiful paintings were gone with him.
They wondered where he could have been.
Coen could not control his special aptitude, so he was left waiting and hoping that Toren would suddenly glitch through his brain and see where his brother had left to.
After about 2 days, Coen had a glimpse of where Toren was, but it was all too dark and blurry. Nevertheless, he had figured out that Toren was still going on with his paintings.
He had seen the deep blue shaded flower, the snake and apple, the canvas sheets, the brush and color paints, and even his strokes deepening and softening.
During the labor at carpentry, Coen had accidentally seen his brother crossing the deep forest, so he chased for the silhouette.
Unfortunately, he had lost track of the shadow he had seen and was scolded and punished by the soldiers that were keeping an eye on them.
Meanwhile, Toren had locked himself inside the tiny, dusty basement and resumed painting the pictures that were still stuck on his head.
Aside from the mental torture he had been receiving because of the inspections, he had been forced to stay with the family and do manual labors.
His time for painting had been completely eradicated, which made him resort to such drastic measures.
The sunlight would not reach down to his room and the world seemed distant and hot from where he sat.
He wondered every time he would move his brush across the sheet why he could not possibly have both comfort and passion at the same time.
He always had to give up one or the other.
He wondered why the world demanded such sacrifices when he does not desire for greedy things.
"Or am I actually greedy?" He asked himself, staring at the portrait of an archangel he is currently painting, which he had once seen during a prayer meeting led by a priestess.
The angel's cherubic face stared back at him and somehow, Toren felt mocked and discriminated against.