Two days later, Monday Morning.
Two days later, on Monday morning, Luke stared at the crowd gathering in front of him. On the outside, he wore a calm expression, but inside, he was panicking and regretting his impulsive decision.
Currently, Luke was in the expansive exhibition hall where all the artworks were displayed. His painting was among them, captivating a large crowd of onlookers.
Luke's plan was indeed clever as not only his painting secured him with a prime spot, it also attracted significant attention. This allowed him to observe who among the crowd could relate to it.
What Luke hadn't fully considered was the increased risk his actions could bring. He knew there were monsters roaming around this world, yet he had failed to account for them.
Since Friday's incident, he hadn't seen any signs of the monsters, even during the moments when time stopped. The apparent peace made him feel safe, leading him to focus entirely on his painting and forget about the dangers.
He let his obsession with art take over, failing to plan for the long term. Now, he was uncertain of what to expect.
Luke reflected on his situation. He could only hope that those who were conscious like him would notice him before the monsters did and offer their help. This faint hope was the only thing keeping him steady.
Still, the damage was done, and there was no turning back. All he could do now was adapt. While he hoped for others to help him, he also didn't forget to take precautions.
At first, Luke tried to take his painting down, but his art professor was so enthusiastic about it that he wouldn't allow him to. Luke briefly wondered if something was wrong with the professor, but he couldn't tell for sure.
So, when he woke up this morning, he decided to let the strings control his movements entirely. This way, his strange behavior would be minimized, and he would blend in better with the crowd.
As Luke's body moved toward the gathering, a voice called out to him from behind.
"Are you the one who painted this?"
Luke turned around and his gaze rippled in surprise. The man before him was familiar, it was the same man he had seen last Friday!
"Yes, it's mine." Luke's face flashed a frisky smile, seemingly proud of his masterpiece.
Luke faintly heard the indistinct sound of metal hitting the ground. However, he could only see the man in front of him and not the presence of the puppeteer monster.
Still, he knew the monster was hidden nearby as numerous thin golden strings had emerged from the man's body, stretching upwards before disappearing a few feet away.
"It's impressive. Kind of revolutionary," the man continued. "Combining realism with fantasy is brilliant. Where did you get the inspiration?"
Luke felt his sweat poured from his temple. Of course, it was only his imagination, but it felt like it.
He felt that the crowd had fallen silent, and the others seemed to be looking at him, waiting for his response.
With so many emotionless eyes staring at him, Luke's fear grew, and he regretted his impulsiveness all over again.
He wanted to lie and to make up a story. But he had no control over his body, and that included everything he said. His response would just be whatever came naturally to him.
Luke paused for a moment before his lips finally parted to speak.
"It just came to me."
Luke spoke with a hint of aloofness. His words sounded carefree, as though he didn't care much about the world around him.
"…"
The crowd remained silent, and Luke felt the same silence within himself. For the first time, he saw his own behavior from an outside perspective, and he felt ashamed.
"Hahaha," the man before him laughed, clearly amused by Luke's response. "Yeah. It happens. It happens."
"Oh by the way, I'm Inigo Dantes. A sculpture major."
Inigo raised his hand, and Luke shook it in greeting. "I'm Luke Lorence."
"Want to see my work? It's just nearby."
Luke wanted to refuse because he knew Inigo's true nature, but if everything was normal...
"Sure, why not."
He was an art lover, always interested in any form of art. Whether it was paintings or sculptures, it didn't matter.
In the corner, a crowd had gathered around a single sculpture.
"That's mine."
Luke examined the piece. It was a massive silver shield with a crack running through it, forming a large hole. The hole resembled a mouth, with numerous tongues emerging from it. The piece was both disturbing and fascinating, fitting perfectly with the event's bizarre theme.
"What's your inspiration for this sculpture?" Luke asked.
Inigo stared at his work, his eyes gleaming in contrast to the emotionless gaze of the crowd.
He chuckled, then answered humorously, "It just came to me."
Luke felt a chill as he looked at the sculpture's mouth. It looked similar to the golden strings from the puppeteer monster, except the strings were now tongues.
Suddenly, Luke's body jerked back as he noticed Inigo's hand moving closer to his neck.
"What are you doing?" Luke asked, his voice laced with confusion.
Inigo's hand froze midair. He then smiled and said in a casual tone, "I'm just curious about your necklace. Can you show it to me?"
Luke stepped back, his eyes narrowing. "We're not close. Please mind your boundaries."
He turned and walked away, feeling a wave of relief as he distanced himself. Still, the metallic sounds echoed around the hall, preventing him from feeling completely at ease. He knew the monster was still watching him and he had no idea what it would do next.
***
When Luke went outside, the crowd around his painting still hadn't left. Some stared at it for a long time, while others stood near it without even looking, frozen in place as if something was wrong with them.
Unknown to these people, their golden strings began to stir as though receiving a great shock. Normally, once the strings attached to someone, they would stop moving and straighten. But this time, due to the painting, something had changed.
In the corner, many loud metallic noises echoed. They drew closer to the group gathered around the painting.
Inigo just smiled, sensing something exciting was about to happen.
However, just as the tension reached its peak, a group of people approached the painting. Their eyes were different from the others, holding a hint of emotion that reflected on them.
One of them reached the painting, then quickly covered it with a black cloth. As soon as it was out of sight, the people began to return to their original state and moved on to view the other paintings.
Inigo's smile faded as the loud metallic noises from all directions suddenly retreated in panic.
A moment later, Inigo also turned around and fled from the scene. He had a gut feeling that if he stayed any longer, he would be in danger.
***
In the corridor, Luke felt the weight of many eyes on him. It was a result of the trauma he had experienced earlier. He felt like if he made one wrong move, not only would his body be stolen, but his consciousness and awareness would be too.
Yet, contrary to Luke's mental turmoil, everything seemed to be moving normally. Even when time stopped at noon, nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
Luke should have been relieved, but deep down, he knew this calm was only the calm before the storm, especially after hearing a strange rumor about the event.
"Hey, Luke. I heard someone covered your painting because it was too disturbing. The professors allowed it and kept it hidden. Haha, I guess this year's theme backfired," Rogan said, slinging his arm around Luke's shoulder.
"Really?" Luke frowned, pulling Rogan's arm off of him.
"Yeah!" Rogan replied cheerfully. "So, what did you paint? What makes it so controversial?"
"You didn't see it this morning?"
Luke didn't wait for Rogan's response, as it was obvious. After all, why would he ask if he already knew?
"I just made a tweak to my original street painting. Hmm... It's really strange. I suddenly had this thought: what if we're all marionettes, and someone is controlling us, from our personalities to our deaths? We think we have consciousness, but in truth, we don't."
Luke was shocked by his own words. He didn't know he could talk so much. And he knew that what he said wasn't the whole truth, which made him wonder if everything he did outside the strings' control would be corrected, as if experiencing a sudden euphoria or déjà vu.
"You have a great imagination, Luke! But that's absurd," Rogan said, his emotionless eyes momentarily flickering. It was quick and barely noticeable.
"That's absurd..." Rogan repeated one last time, his voice quieting. He soon became completely silent, as though lost in thought.
Luke observed the change in Rogan. He wondered if this would make Rogan aware of the strings. But soon, disappointment washed over him as Rogan returned to normal and began recounting stories of his weekend.