***THEA POV***
My enthusiasm for Benedict Braun's art gallery and paintings suddenly evaporated when I arrived at the front lobby. Several cubical detectors are commonly used to check the presence of metal objects. Still, the one Benedict Braun installed is specially used to detect visitors' hidden abilities on the first day of the gallery's opening.
Not far from the cubical detector, two red-haired psychics are ready to greet the visitors with their right hands that are automatically stretched out when anyone finishes being scanned by the sensor. Does something like this need to be done?
I'm not worried if they find out that there's a little blood off a summoner in me. What worries me and is uncomfortable is when it comes to contact with other people. Does it have to be like that? What if there was a summoner among them? Amid Benedikt Braun and his collection of paintings?
I rushed into the cubicle of the detector, letting the green light that felt warm when it touched the entire surface of my skin scan all sorts of things that could do. It's a bit annoying, especially when the green light is deliberately directed at the iris of my eye. However, even if I don't like it, I even go through it if I want to go in and find what makes me curious all this time.
There came a moment when I had to forcefully stretch out my right hand to be touched for some time by the curl-haired psychic. This part I want to avoid if I can.
So spontaneously, I voiced what made me feel uncomfortable after arriving in front of the Bene Gallery building. "Is this kind of thing necessary?" I asked the wavy red-haired woman who was swept over her right shoulder.
"I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, young lady," said the psychic. "Art activists in this city greatly avoid the presence of summoners in this painting gallery. We are just trying to find, and maybe, there are still some summoners left in this city."
I'm curious. Is a summoner dangerous to any painting or object that has supernatural powers? So, without fear, I asked again. "Are they dangerous to the artworks that are in this gallery?"
The red-haired psychic again gave me a disturbing nod. "You know about Alpha Marc paintings?" she asked.
I nodded along. Doing the same thing is annoying as the red-haired woman in front of me. "The Alpha who was cursed for losing the war?"
"That's right." The red-haired woman nodded again and then invited me to enter the gallery because the examination session was over.
"Enjoy the artwork that Mr Bene presented," she said again.
After watching Ava, who also finished the test, I immediately hooked Ava's arm while walking down one by one whitewashed hallway with various kinds of paintings attached to almost all the walls in the super large room, and the hallways were quite narrow. I should be friendly to the woman but choose to ignore her warm greetings. Get here to pray, I thought.
"You believe in the myth of Alpha Marc's painting, The Prince Who Was Cursed For Losing The War?" I asked Ava.
"I believe it, and I'm afraid that Alpha will escape the curse," Ava replied as she took her head and looked at me. For a moment, I was engrossed in looking at the painting of three twins crying on their mother's lap.
I took the time to look at Ava at a glance before turning into the hallway on the right, in contrast to the one Ava chose, and then I replied to her words, "All right. I'm not going to talk about myths or anything like that. I don't want you to be more sensitive if I accidentally ask you to argue about what you consider and believe."
"Don't look for the painting, Thea," Ava retorted before stepping into the hallway on her left side. "Even if you find it. Just ignore it."
I spontaneously nodded, then stepped into the hallway on her right side, leaving Ava behind with the hallway of her choice. Once again, I nodded when I found the painting they were talking about when I arrived in front of the grand wall in the middle of the room.
I looked at the painting for a long time. All the parts in it I didn't miss, watched and observed. The picture with a wolfsbane-studded silver frame managed to attract all my attention.
There is the only thing that makes me so interested. I was half-dead curious. A group of people surrounded the only man standing upright among the dozens of wolf corpses lying under the man's feet.
"Why are those soldiers in armour still brandishing their spears and swords at you?" I said spontaneously.
Isn't that man indeed able to be said to be defeated? Why not just kill him? Cut off his head, or if he still has compassion, why not just tie his hand and throw him in jail? Does cornering him in such unfavourable circumstances make them all feel satisfied that they have managed to defeat him? I still don't understand the mindset of the people involved in such a battlefield. Especially those who lived at that time.
I would love to wipe the man's shoulder, telling him I was concerned about his defeat. I know, it's just a picture. But for some reason, I wanted to give him a little calm and didn't want to make him think that his world had just ended.
I comprehend that the side of the painting is written clearly so as not to touch every part of the painting. But I couldn't resist that desire. In fact, for some reason, I felt that the man in the picture asked me to pat him, calling his name while giving him a little peace, as I wish I could do.
I turned all my attention to the other scene in the painting, then stopped all my investigations in the lower right corner of the image. It says three words. The name of the main character in the photograph.
"Marc Sterling Gray..." I read the list of names slowly.
I was shocked when I felt the trembling under my feet. I swept my gaze around the room. All the paintings swayed, without even realizing the Alpha Marc painting had fallen to the floor. And the next thing that happened was that all the employees of the Bene Gallery swarmed around me, shouting at me that I was a summoner because the alpha painting fell right after I touched it.
What surprised me a lot more was not the various weapons that were pointed at me. But it was Hugo's loud voice that refuted all the accusations of the gallery staffer, Benedikt Braun, and the older adult by his side who looked at me fiercely.
Let me guess. the old man beside Benedikt Braun was also believing that I was a summoner. The earthquake that happened was also my act. Alpha Marc's painting fell off the hook as well because of my actions. Of course, that's what he has in mind at the moment. Implied clearly from the way he stared and again refuted all the defenses that Hugo did.
In vain Hugo defended me, even when Pauline glared at me when she was abandoned by her boyfriend who she got by snatching it from me. After all, why would Hugo bother to accompany me to the examination room until Esme and Julien came? Why was he so kind to me? But right now that's not what matters to me.
Benedikt Braun put me in the examination room of what he called a panic room along with four red-haired psychics that he placed in every corner of the room, and deliberately they put a silver bracelet carved spells around it on both my hands and feet. It's really uncomfortable.
Really, do they think I'm dangerous? Or, is the summoner really dangerous for them? Dangerous for Alpha Marc painting?
The all-white room was completely plain. There is no clock as a timepiece. The breath of the four psychics there became the only voice I could hear in silence.
There was nothing I could do but be quiet, allowing flashes of light of all colors to come from all four corners of the room—from the psychics who were examining me. My ability.
Every time a flash of light flashed, my hands as long as my feet spontaneously bit. Something behind the silver bracelet was like biting my skin. Is this how it works? Until I don't know how long it has been going on, I'm already nobly used to the sting. I slowly laid my body on the bed I had been in for some time, trying to calm down and be more relaxed, because, being angry or rebelling was useless.
I vaguely heard the voices of Esme and Julien in the distance, like they were debating the people out there. The connection between me and my uncle and aunt felt so strong, in fact, the room that locked me up for some time was a soundproof room, but I could feel their presence even hearing their voices.
The argument between whom and my uncle and aunt seemed to be getting more superheated. From their increasingly advanced tones, it seems that Esme and Julien's interlocutors make them unable to help but speak in various tones.
I even gasped when I heard Esme suddenly swear. I opened my eyes in one breath, looking back at the silver bracelet that shackled my hands and legs.
I flashed a faint asymmetrical smile while shaking my head, in disbelief at what I was going through right now. "The whole country knows everything about me, even the size of the underwear I wear," I muttered.
Suddenly I was upset when I remembered the spate of schedules I missed because I was locked in this room I don't know how long it had been. I think it's probably almost or more than 24 hours. "Fortunately, the moonlight circuit suffered damage from the earthquake. I don't need compensation for not being able to make the first test drive in front of the sponsors."
"How much longer will it take to—"
I didn't have time to finish my sentence, because the door opened along with the appearance of Julien, Esme, Hugo, Artem, and Benedikt the gallery owner. The four psychics who accompanied me rushed to take off the silver plate that shackled my two feet and hands after getting the order code from their master.
"I'm not a criminal!" I spontaneously squealed as the five people who had just entered the room approached me.
I don't know why, when I met Hugo, I thanked him. I don't know for what reason, obviously I am quite grateful because it is possible that he still gave some statements to Benedikt Braun and the old man who was mentioned as Artem.
Benedikt has broken down my admiration and respect for him. Even his apology can't bring things back to what they were. Before hearing the boring sentences that people often say when doing various mistakes, I hurried to leave Benedikt Braun's examination room with Esme and Julien.
We went back to the apartment. I firmly ask not to be disturbed by Julien, let alone Esme. I needed some time alone, at least as long as I took a shower and removed the smell of sweat that had settled in my body for 24 hours confined in Benedict Braun's examination room.
I thought that soaking in warm water accompanied by the soft scent of blue peony flowers from the bubble bath I chose on a row of soap shelves would help give me peace of mind. Unfortunately, when I was almost swept up in the reverie, I gasped. Woke up with a chest-jerking feeling. I don't know what makes me feel that way. It's just that, suddenly I thought of the alpha's name printed clearly in the lower right corner of his painting displayed in the Benedikt Braun Gallery.
"Marc...?" I subconsciously mentioned his name. "Marc Sterling?" I'm still trying to remember the whole line-up of his name.
"Marc Sterling Gray..." both corners of my lips were raised up when I managed to say his full name; the alpha, the prince who lost the war.
I don't know why after mentioning his name, the name of the alpha, relief ambushed me. Channeling all kinds of calmness that I have only felt for the first time in a long time.
I left the room with a big smile, but the smile disappeared instantly when I found Hugo sitting with a tense face with Esme and Julien. I was forced to join, even though I was lazy to sit down and listen to the intention of Hugo's arrival and all kinds of stories as well as the reasons Hugo would tell us. Especially when Hugo decided to settle down with my uncle and aunt during my examination session.
I wasn't quite surprised to hear what Hugo said. I expected it. I know he feels responsible even though he shouldn't. After knowing everything, I decided to go and let Hugo along with Esme as well as Julien. I wanted to get back to scavenging for the rest of the calm by returning to the room, unfortunately, Esme instead followed in my footsteps.
I know her intentions. Esme must have questioned me about how I felt while in the examination room, but I was reluctant to tell her. For what? Nothing meaningful. So, when Esme just opened her mouth to make a sound, I quickly grabbed the hoodie that I hadn't washed from the top of the laundry basket and then came out with the excuse of wanting to buy snacks, and was forced to drive Hugo all the way to the elevator.
I was happy when some teenage boy got into the elevator, carrying his noisy phone with the live streaming broadcast of a singer I was quite familiar with. Even though it felt so noisy, at least there was no longer a long silence between me and Hugo.
Unfortunately, all the crowds that came brought courage to Hugo. He kept calling my name. My last name. Just get me upset. In fact, I'm sure he still remembers that I forbade him to call me by my last name. His face is very annoying every time he mentions the syllables on my last name array.
Finally, on one occasion I ventured to reprimand him. Unfortunately, he did not know what he was doing. Hugo kept denying it even though I yelled at him a few times.
Hugo sighed resignedly. "I've even been busy shutting my mouth and even holding back a smile since just now."
"Don't be kidding, Hugo!"
"Are you sure that I called you that? Like your accusation?" Hugo folded his hands on his chest, looking at me with a seductive look.
That's right. In retrospect over and over again, Hugo's voice and the voice calling my last name were much different. Sounds soft. It's not as annoying as Hugo once did.
At that time I was pensive. I heard the baritone again. A voice that always calls my name in my subconscious. The voice that always calls me softly. Just like the touch, I felt on the surface of my facial skin.
"I heard a voice calling my name," I subconsciously muttered. Voice what I hear. "My last name."
Hugo suddenly patted me on the shoulder as the elevator door opened on the ground floor. The place is my main goal.
"Don't you want to shop for snacks at the convenience store?" Hugo reminded.