Chapter 324 Volume V - Chapter 42: Painter of Time
I passed through a hallway lined with white walls, just like the rest of my house. But with every step I took, I couldn't stop looking at the countless paintings on the walls.
I had seen each of these paintings thousands of times. I had studied them all, memorized almost all of them. Some of the paintings were bad ones that children could only draw half-assedly. But when I looked at another, I could see that the person who drew the paintings had improved. The paintings were getting more and more detailed, bigger and bigger, and more... beautiful.
The gradual evolution of the paintings... literally... made me mesmerized no matter how many times I saw them. It was a different feeling, especially knowing that it was my own son who had painted them.
So, I was looking at each of the paintings again and again, taking slow steps. I was in no hurry. I was enjoying the colorful corridor with a smile on my face.
But after a while, I inevitably paused and took my eyes off the paintings. I didn't lower the smile on my face, on the contrary, I widened it even more. Then I knocked on the door on one side of the corridor, which was the reason for my pause.
At first, there was no answer. But with the second knock, I heard a movement behind the door, followed by the sweet and naive voice of a child.
"You can come in!"
I opened the door slowly, carefully, because sometimes, there would be things behind it that could break or spill. But this time, that was not the case and I opened the door wide.
Most of my house, apart from the countless paintings, was simply white. The rooms were supposed to be the same way. But the room in front of me... could not be described by a simple color like white. It was like a rainbow, literally every color on the walls.
Not only the walls but even the ceiling was a work of art. It was not made up of intertwined patterns and paintings. It was a single, gigantic painting. But... having seen it many times, I didn't pay much attention to it.
My eyes quickly shifted to the little boy sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. His ocean-blue eyes, which he had taken from me, looked curious, and his lips were slightly curled upward. He had curly brown hair. His cheeks were losing their plumpness with each passing day, but they still had a fullness to them. He had only been ten for a few days.
"Dad, did something happen?"
I grimaced, sighing as I walked over to him.
"Does something have to happen for me to visit my son?"
My middle child, Tom by name, threw his hands, covered in dried paint, behind his head and smiled awkwardly.
"I'm sorry... but you looked at what I was doing just an hour ago. So I thought something had happened..."
I put a smile back on my face, bent down, and ruffled my son's hair on purpose. But he didn't avoid it, on the contrary, he smiled even more.
"Did the white-haired brother go away?"
I nodded my head in agreement, while Tom looked a little disappointed.
"I... thought maybe we could talk."
It wasn't just words. His face fell, his eyes squinted slightly, really. After all... he was one of the people in this house who had been waiting for this day the most. This 'white-haired brother', Adrian Caleo, whose name he did not know, whom he had never seen even once in his life, was present in most of his paintings.
"For now, it won't happen. Maybe later... but not now. And you know why."
Tom didn't say anything else. Instead, he just closed his eyes and sighed. He shook his head slightly from side to side and then smiled again.
"We'll meet when the time comes, then!"
I hope you meet him without any trouble, I thought involuntarily.
Yes, I might not trust Adrian Caleo, I might have discovered a trace of my great-grandfather in his soul, but that... didn't change the fact that I wanted a good outcome.
Adrian Caleo was important. For this family, for the future of this world, and for so much more. I knew this much better than my ten-year-old son, who could not yet comprehend what he was drawing.
But... the doubt would always remain in me. And I couldn't do anything without removing those doubts.
"Forget about that brother for now, as you said, you will meet him when the time comes. But... there's something I'm curious about, Tom."
Tom raised his eyebrows for a moment. I smiled again as his expression took on the sweetness of a curious child.
"The last time you tried to draw a picture of your great-great-
grandfather, you couldn't, right?"
Tom quickly realized where the conversation was going. The curious expression on his face quickly disappeared.
"Yes...?"
"Can you try to draw him again? But this time, instead of trying to draw him as a person... try to draw him as a spirit. Is that okay?"
Tom looked away nervously. But he nodded his head.
"I'll try... but I don't like trying to draw him..."
"I know, Tom. But you're the only one I can ask. You're my son, you're the one I trust the most in this world. But... don't worry. If you can't draw him this time, I won't push you for a long time, okay?"
Tom took a deep breath and nodded again. He spoke in a mumbling voice.
"Okay..."
When I saw how fast his mood changed... I couldn't help being angry with myself. I didn't want to force him either, it was hard for me to force him to do something he didn't want to do. But... like I said, he was the only person in the world I could ask.
As I curled my lips upward, I quickly moved my fingers to his stomach. Without a second's hesitation, I started tickling him. Tom, despite his low mood, quickly tried to avoid me, but he couldn't. He burst out laughing right afterward, his laughter echoing in my ears.
I stood up and stretched slightly, then took my eyes off my son, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly, and looked behind him for the first time since I had entered the room.
It was clear he had been working on something before I entered the room. I wondered if it was a normal picture this time, or a special one as usual, but... I paused for a moment when I saw a spot in the picture that was largely obscured by his small figure.
In the space between his arm and his stomach, on the ground just behind him... I could see a figure... someone with his back turned. He had white hair, as is often the case... I wasn't too surprised. But the important thing was... the condition of the figure.
"What did you draw again?"
I spoke in a tone that didn't worry my son too much, despite what I had seen. However, my smile fell from my face and I became serious, even if I didn't want to be. Without realizing it, Tom suddenly became excited and answered my question as he stepped back.
"I didn't draw this one, my friend did! How is it, how is it?"
His question echoed in my mind, his excited words entered my ears and reached my brain, but... I just froze in place.
It was a different painting than any other painting my son had drawn that I had ever seen. In contrast to the excitement of the person who drew it... it was a terrifying picture.
The background was a very familiar city. It was a random street in Wiathen City, but it was a street I knew. I had passed this place several times.
It was something I wouldn't have been surprised to see on its own. But... everything else made me stiffen where I was.
A young man with white hair, Adrian Caleo, stood in the center of the picture with his back turned. In his hand was a spear, surrounded by a strange, colorless glow.
To one side of him was the figure of a young woman with bright blond hair. In her left hand, she held a thin sword, and in her right, a tiny flame burned. On the other side was another young woman with long, black hair. She had nothing in her hands and even looked a little scared. She had taken a few steps back from the duo standing to her left.
There were a few people around them, trying to escape, watching what was happening on the ground with pale skin, as if their blood had frozen. I could feel the fear in their faces.
The first of the two most important details in the picture... was the other background of the picture outside the street. Except for this street that I recognized, there was no other background in the picture. There was only... pure darkness. There was no sky, no sun, or stars. Just... nothing.
And this darkness seemed to be slowly closing in on Adrian Caleo, or rather on the area where he was.
The second detail... was another person standing in front of the three young people in the painting. Another young man wearing a black mask, who also looked young... but even though his face was not visible, just looking at him, he had an air of... fear.
He seemed to be the darkness itself.
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