"Sir. Sir... This is your painting. Hey, don't go. Miss, please ask about this painting... Hey, hey, beauty, don't go. Sir, this is your painting. Hey..."
"Whose painting is this from? Why is no one claiming it!!"
Jialan, who was lying in her humid and hot loft, weakly held up the painting she picked up at the auction. Taking advantage of the moonlight coming from the narrow window, she didn't know whether it was a psychological effect or real. I don't know if it was Jialan's illusion. The man in the painting, who was indistinguishably beautiful and male, seemed to smile to herself, "Oh my god. What kind of ghost painting is this?" "Jialan, you damn girl, get down and carry things. You are so good..." All kinds of ugly words came to my face. He threw the painting aside and went downstairs in response to his adoptive mother's sarcastic remarks.
It was already midnight when he returned to the attic again. Jialan, who was extremely tired, did not notice that the blood from his cut finger slowly snaked onto the painting. A cold light suddenly appeared...