Present year…
The mixed reaction of shock and fearful disbelief was the same as the ones he got when they first started unveiling his more original artworks. Rowan only watched the people from the mezzanine floor overlooking the whole hall. He leaned on the railing with both hands, his weight only one leg.
Compared to his first appearance, Rowan already had his medium-length hair trimmed into a clean cut. Most volume was in the middle, but his hair was combed back. Stray strands served as the thin fringe that added sharpness to his eyes. Colored spectacles obscured his bored gaze, not satisfied with what he saw.
"He should be around to see it. I ran into him staring at one of your old paintings." The man who spoke to Scott earlier stood next to the artist. He leaned on the railing with one elbow. "He still remembers the quality of your work. However, he described the new ones as inferior to the old."
"He doesn't like surrealist artworks." That was all Rowan said.
The artist panned his vision to the spot almost under the mezzanine floor he was on. A familiar-looking beautiful woman dragged a man in a suit closer to the crowding people. Rowan couldn't tell what they were up to, but a slight smile was curling his lips.
He then turned to the man next to him. "Duke, should I appear to speak to the crowd? I've never shown myself to anyone outside the clients of Pareidolia."
"Don't worry. I'll get Reeva to arrange matters for you. I'll be here to watch the people." Duke smiled at Rowan like normal, with that kind smile as if nothing was wrong in this world. However, under such a low-light setting, it looked ominous.
"All right. Wish me luck." Rowan laughed a bit before walking right behind Duke. With the other man following Rowan with his gaze, Duke only kept on facing the artist.
Rowan reached out both hands to cradle Duke's face before pecking at the other's lips. After that, Rowan ran off to meet Reeva somewhere in the gallery.
The kind smile on Duke's lips grew deeper, and he turned to the lower floor. He stared in Scott's direction, making the other person feel the weight of his gaze. When Scott turned to look, Duke's smile only grew sharper.
On the stage, the gallery curator cleared his throat after the trance. Everyone was so clear that Red Riding Hood was an artist of the macabre. However, the biggest unveiled painting tonight was more than what they asked for. If he could cover it, he would.
He then looked at his cue cards and started talking about the first two paintings titled 'Winter House.' One was 'Day,' and the other was 'Night.' It was a memorable sight to the artist, staring at it for around ten years. The view was deeply engraved in his memories.
"Sir…" an assistant called out in a whisper. The curator turned to the side and had the assistant whisper to him about something. He then looked in the direction of the side hall, his eyes shining strangely with a mix of fear and admiration.
The curator faced the crowd again. "Everyone! Let me present to you—"
The lights at the back dimmed, and everyone focused their eyes on that man in a dark suit and colored spectacles. His cool aura was both attracting everyone to him and burning whoever got too close. Everything about him began to feel dangerous, but there was a degree of innocence that made people want to caress him.
He stood a meter away from the curator and ripped his colored specs off his face. A victorious smile curled his lips as he stared straight right at Scott's face.
"Mr. Rowan Mercer, the man behind Red Riding Hood!"
The people gasped at the grand face reveal of the macabre artist, whose artworks made them come here. They gave him the applause he deserved, but his gaze was only resting in a certain direction. People would look and find the people he was looking at, but no one seemed interesting enough.
Then again, Rowan began looking around and bowing left and right to answer the applause. He received a microphone from the curator and addressed the audience. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming to see my launch tonight. I know my showing up here came to you as a shock. However, how could I not do this when I was born and raised here in Gideon City?"
Amid the speech, Scott and Connie had already fled the hall. The woman hurriedly stomped her way to match Scott's speed. They needed to leave the venue in case Rowan decided to tell everyone how they dared to kill him one night.
She slammed the door shut after getting inside the black car. She turned to her boyfriend who started the engine. "You said he was already dead! What is this?"
"If I know, you won't find me here with you." Scott scoffed and drove the car out of the parking spaces. His hand gripped the steering wheel tighter as he remembered how Rowan stared at him. Just one gaze was enough to make him feel like Rowan looked down on his very being.
"What do we do now? Do you think Rowan will tell people about it?" Connie gritted her teeth and turned away to lean on her seat. "I knew it! I should have burned that body instead. Or cut him into pieces. How could he even survive a bullet to the head?"
Scott glanced at the woman and kept his eyes on the road after. The rain that loomed over the city started falling, and it didn't take a long while before the wipers started moving in front of him. All that time, Scott tuned out Connie's complaints.
Then he remembered that man who randomly walked up to him. What was it that the man said? Someone was wrong to worship him for ten years? Wasn't that the same amount of time Rowan spent with him?
Scott suddenly hit the brake as if a deer was frozen in front of them. The force pushed Connie forward mercilessly, her seatbelt straining against her chest. She glared at the empty space in front of them before turning to Scott, who was only staring up front.
"Get a grip, Scott Bradshaw. Do you suddenly want to die because Rowan is alive?" Connie consoled her chest. "Do you see this? The seatbelt ripped my gown."
"…he's not alone." Scott started driving again. "That man from earlier was in on it. Tch, of course, he's not alone. He would never survive this long on his own. Humph, what was that look he gave me? Does he think he has what it takes to get back at me?"
Connie frowned and sat properly on her seat. She then crossed her arms on her chest. "Let's just see what he's willing to do about it. Suddenly showing up in front of us…"