Paintings of Terror - Chapter 10: Died as a Mosaic

Qin Ran was kidnapped and sold by a human trafficker to the countryside at the age of three. The Qin family found her back half a year ago, but because they had taken a liking to their foster daughter, Qin Xue, and refused to let her suffer grievance just because Qin Ran had returned, they continued to let Qin Xue occupy the main bedroom, learn the piano, etc. Meanwhile, the real daughter, Qin Ran, could only sleep in the maid’s room on the first floor. Because Qin Ran refused to accept Qin Xue’s out-of-season clothes and wore a second-hand bag, she was labeled as being insensible. Since then, her mother never bought her another piece of clothing. The Qin family even strictly warned Qin Ran not to harbor any thoughts for Qin Xue’s fiance, Fu Li.

Later on, Fu Li was involved in a car accident that resulted in high paraplegia… Qin Ran’s mother said, “Xiao Ran, our family has a collaboration with the Fu family, so we can’t turn on them at a time like this. Although the engagement was for Qin Xue, you’re the real daughter of the Qin family. Madam Fu has been understanding and agreed to let you marry into their family.” Her mother even said, “Why aren’t you happy? The Fu family is rich, so if you marry into their family, you can be a young madam and enjoy life. Isn’t that great? Regardless, we’re trying our best to give you a better life than before!” But Qin Ran said, “I’m pregnant. Also, I’m severing ties with all of you from today on.” The Qin family was enraged, but they refused to believe that a brat like Qin Ran would really give up the Qin family fortune and sever ties with them.

No one expected Qin Ran to leave the Qin family with such a resolution. She then found her baby’s father and became the wife of the legendary bigshot, Mo Chi. The top-class bigshot thought he had married an inexperienced and pitiful girl with a sad past, but then… She defused bombs with her bare hands, possessed miraculous medical skills, and was highly trained in martial arts… Mo Chi was baffled. “What else don’t I know about you?”

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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