?Chapter 783:

    Alice was clearly over the moon—she almost danced down the hallway, humming cheerfully as she disappeared from sight.

    The following morning arrived at the Paul Klee Center, nestled in Burlwood Grove in Sceibar. Golden sunlight poured in through the center’s gleaming, modern ss dome as the world-renowned art event, Cross-Boundary Resonance: A Dialogue Between Art and Time, kicked off in full.

    Organized by a Sceibar-based art foundation and backed by global heavyweights like the Newmarch Arts Center and the Gascoyne Museum, the show boasted rare masterpieces and specially curated sections highlighting modern creators. The Cooper Group had proudly sponsored the event, securing front-row spots for Kiley and her group at the ceremony’s opening.

    Right at ten, the exhibition space filled to the brim with attendees. The director of the Gascoyne Museum stepped up to the podium and delivered a heartfelt and thoughtful address. But after half an hour, people in the crowd began to squirm, their attention clearly waning. Atst, as he wrapped up his final words, the room broke into enthusiastic apuse.

    The audience poured into the central exhibit space. Reporters and critics from around the world wasted no time, splitting off into different wings to talk and take notes.

    Kiley, d in a sharp, tailored dress, strode ahead of the group. Her face was unreadable, her gaze sharp and appraising. Except for Raging Waves by her sister Mariana, nothing else managed to hold her interest. She nced over each piece without slowing her stride, that familiar sense of disappointment creeping in once again.

    But as she neared the far end of the second hall, a piece suspended on a custom track made her pause. It stood out. She came to a sudden halt.

    The artwork was titled Rebirth.

    At first nce, Kiley took it for a dying bird, clinging weakly to a brittle branch. Its pale wings sagged, as though drained of strength.

    Every story starts at galn   ovels ;

    The heavyyers of ink gave the piece a suffocating weight, almost as if it were pulling in every trace of light around it.

    Still, something about it drew her closer. She couldn’t exin why.

    “Who painted this?” she asked the staff quietly, without turning around.

    The attendant nearby replied, “It was created by someone named Matias Watts.”

    “Matias Watts…” Kiley whispered the name under her breath, almost as if tasting the sound of it.

    Mariana stood back and noticed Kiley finally stopping in front of a piece of art.

    She hurried over, but the moment her eyesnded on the canvas, she froze in surprise. “Isn’t this the crown jewel of Orchid Gallery in Wront? How is it here at the exhibition?”

    Kiley turned her head sharply, raising an eyebrow. “What did you just call it? The crown jewel? You’ve seen this painting before?”

    “I’ve seen it once. It’s good, I’ll admit,” Mariana replied with a casual shrug. “But all the fame? That’s exaggerated. Nothing about it stood out to me. Honestly, my piece, ‘Raging Waves,’ blows it out of the water.”

    “Totally agree,” Raegan said, stepping closer to examine the painting. “It’s just a bird on itsst legs. Gloomy, really.”

    The moment her words left her mouth, a sharp click echoed from the bottom of the frame, and it began to turn sideways with a quiet whir.

    Everyone froze. All eyes locked onto the spinning base, no one daring to look away.

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