Chapter 7.2
7.2: Canvas Enigmas
Rafayel’s front door is slightly open, similar to how it was during my last visit. A silver of light peeks through the gap.
I gently push the door and watch my step. Sculptures, easels, and art supplies are everywhere. Rafayel is on the floor. He’s not moving.
MC: “...Rafayel!!”
I quickly approach him and lean down, our faces a breath apart. Rafayel’s expression is peaceful, as if he’s lost in a dream.
I put finger near his nose and feel his soft breath against my skin.
MC: “...He’s still alive.”
A breeze passes the white curtains by the window and litters the floor with sheets of drawing paper. I bend down to pick one up.
Some of the messy sketches depict splendid architecture, others surging waves. Some sketches are so abstract that I can’t tell what they are.
They do share one thing in common, however. Written on the bottom right-hand corner is a tiny word: Lemuria.
Rafayel: “...”
Still sleepy, he looks my way with a half-lidded gaze.
I step back and knock over a pot filled with brushes. Liquid spills, lush green trees, blue skies, and white clouds from outside reflected on its surface.
Rafayel: “You’re here?”
MC: “... Rafayel, are you okay?”
After staring at me for a long time, Rafayel suddenly moves his head and holds out his hand.
MC: “... What are you doing?”
Rafayel: “Pull me up.”
MC: “Can’t you do it yourself?”
Rafayel: “Hurry. Help me get off the floor.”
MC: “...”
The moment I take his hand, Rafayel yanks me down.
MC: “You...!”
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Rafayel: “You’re really nice. You worry about my well-being and even accompany me to lunch.”
Rafayel: “Sooo, did you see anything suspicious?”
MC: “... Everyone was starring at the haphazardly parked sports car outside.”
Rafayel: “Isn’t it awesone? My car installation art. It’s one of a kind.”
MC: “Now what? There’s a crowd swarming your car. How can we leave?”
Rafayel: “Having a bunch of people is the best cover. If anything dangerous show up, we ditch the car and sprint through the back door. It’s like vanishing into thin air.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself.
MC: “You already knew the people in the N109 Zone were targeting you?”
Rafayel: “Yeeeah, it’s a long story. But to make a long story short...”
Rafayel: “Someone in the N109 Zone wanted mw to paint a painting, but I told them no.
Out of nowhere, Rafayel pulls out a carbon fiber pen, smooths out a napkin on the table, and starts doodling.
MC: “...They want to kipl you over a painting? Is your art really that special?”
Rafayel: “Well, yeah. They discovered the secret message in my painting, which would lead them to their heart’s desire.”
I haven’t seen many of Rafayel’s paintings, but the one at Raymond’s left a lasting impression on me. I recall my memories of that time and realize an important clue.
MC: “...Is what they’re after related to the illusion in your painting?”
His pen stop moving, and it creates a large blot of ink on the napkin.
Rafayel: “An illusion? What did you see?”
MC: “I saw a young girl on the beach. She was singing a song I didn’t understand... It sounded sad.”
MC: “Is the painting special because you used the coral stone from that day?”
Rafayel: “Yup. I heard it’s kinda rare. It was found near the bottom of the ocean, in a place called Lemuria.”
Rafayel: “That location is brimming with rare treasures. Even a tiny bit of coral can make you feel like you’re in a world of dreams.”
Rafayel: “If you grind the coral stone into pigment, you can immerse the viewer in a pretty dream created by the artist.”
He speaks of this crazt story, but his voice doesn’t waver. He seems to be telling the truth. I have no choice but to hide my skepticism.
Rafayel twirls his pen between his fingers, then looks into my eyes.
Rafayel: “Anywaaay... Guess you’re not here because you’re concerned about my safety, yeah?”
MC: “Rafayel, you have a bounty on your head from the N109 Zone. That means you’ve heard about it before.”
MC: “I need to go there and find something... It’s really important.”
MC: “Aside from barging in, I don’t know how to enter that place...”
My hint is as clear as day. But after giving it some thought, Rafayel shakes his head. His expression is one of nonchalance.
Rafayel: “Linkon has become even more dangerous, and you’re taking about entering a labyrinth.”
Rafayel: “Forget about it. A hunter like you just going in there is like a lamb walking into a tiger’s den.”
His words leave me disheartened, but he isn’t wrong.
MC: “...Since you’re safe and sound, I’ll get going.”
Just as I’m about to get up from my chair, Rafayel grabs my hand.
Rafayel: “Wait.”
MC: “Huh?”
Rafayel: “Someone’s following us.”
Rafayel loosens his grip. He speaks as he sets down his pen and pushes a napkin toward me.
With a few strokes, he sketches a layout of the restaurant on it. A man wearing a black jacket sits behind us to the right. He’s slouching, perfectly hidden behind a potted plant.
MC: “...He’s already here?”
Rafayel: “Not sure.”
Rafayel: “But since he’s acting all shady... He’s definitely not one of my fans.”
I raise my arm and activate the watch on my wrist. A palm-sized, holographic map appears before Rafayel and me.
MC: “We’ll sneak out from the back, run through the mall, and exit on the north side. Then we’ll circle around until we reach an alley behind the flower shop.”
Rafayel: “...You know, you’re a really good hunter.”
MC: “When you see the big picture, you need to use some bait.”
I look up, noting the passing crowd reflected in the window. A group of high school students who just got off school trickle through the door.
MC: “It’s time.”
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