Novel & Cerita Puppeteer X Bloody Painter

She chuckled, turning her head at me. “Promise me you won’t sell this, Red,” she laughed. I shook my head, my shoulders shaking as I laughed with her. “I will keep this. You didn’t tell me you have this kind of talent, but you got my lips wrong.” I raised my hand, my index finger pointing at the curve of the lips of her stick man drawing. Aya glanced at me and then nodded. “Paint again, Red,” she murmured. “I can’t. Since Scarlett died, I felt like I could not paint anymore,” I muttered sadly, glancing at the last piece I made, Scarlett and our twins.

Diana turned with a sharp look, "You shouldn't be playing with humans!!" Dominic just let go of his hand. Making the blood from Diana's hands immediately flow, making the clean white blanket get tainted. However, Diana didn't care, she looked at Dominic with anger.

The next morning I proved it to myself by actually showing up to class early, sketchbook already open on my lap when Professor Laurent walked in. He was in one of his dramatic moods—scarf flung over one shoulder, gesturing with both hands as he lectured about decay as aesthetic rebellion. Halfway through, he stopped, clapped once, and grinned like he’d just invented the idea himself. “Your next project,” he announced, “is titled Urban Decay. I want you to go out into the city. Find the places most people avoid. The rotting piers, the abandoned lots, the alleys where the streetlights don’t reach. Draw what you see. But more than that—draw what you feel when you’re standing there. The beauty i

he continued, ripping my clothes with his bare hands, exposing my erect nipples. My breath came in sharp gasps as my eyes met the ground. Deep down, I didn’t want to go through the pain of another master, yet I still wanted to be sold. I pressed my lips together. “She’s pretty, truly, she can be useful in bed,” a man suddenly said. “I will pay two hundred grams,” a man bid. My hand clenched hard as the bids continued until it fell on the round-bellied man. “Going once, going twice sol-”

One wrong whisper, one wrong rumor, and everything Sophie and Xavier were trying to build could shatter. I pushed it down. Focus. Protect them. Protect our children. Protect the future we’re fighting for. The first artist lived above a pottery guild. She answered the door with ink on her fingers and irritation in her eyes. “You think I’m sneaking around with protest paint?” she scoffed. “Half my work is murals. The red you saw on the walls? Wrong mix. That was cheap stuff. Mine’s imported. Cost me triple.” She shoved a crate of pigments at me, receipts clipped neatly to the side.

Guided by magic, the blood formed complex runes and images. It took three full days. The painting was almost complete. I went out to buy the last ingredient I needed, a pigment called "Moon-silver Grass." Without the ancient tome, I had to rely on this older method. But the moment I returned, the acrid stench of corrosion assaulted my senses. I rushed into my studio. The blood-painting had been utterly destroyed by a powerful corrosive potion. All that remained on the canvas were black, scorched marks. "No!" I activated the surveillance magic.

I grabbed the handle and tried to open it, but it seemed locked. The sound reverberated in our ears for a long time. A musty, dank order sneaked into my nose. Weeds of dark leafy were clinging on the roof, due to which any person would faint. The house's walls showed black decay with various names written on them with red ink or blood. Stains of original paint indicated the house's prior affluence. The fresh blood of humans covered the corners of the doors with tiny black spiders thread towards their loot. It reflected a royal yet haunted image as if Kings and queens lived here for centuries.

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

You can start now, Maureen," Maureen smiled at him. She felt her fingers tremble but did not stop her from continuing painting. Maybe it's just her excitement so she also feels a little nervous. Gregorio sat on the sofa in front of the girl, watching her painting. He is secretly happy because it looks like Maureen is his next victim. "I'm done, Sir," Maureen said happily. She didn't take her eyes off the painting. The painting is so beautiful that anyone who sees it would dream of owning it. She was lucky because she received the artist's painting, and take note, it's free! Gregorio stood up and approached the girl. "It would be even better if you put your name," Gregorio said kindly.

“I’ve been asking myself a million questions why my dad would not plant this wonderful flowers on our side.” The man laughed heartily. “Well they only support this soil at this side.” He said to me. “Maybe I’ll have to steal just a little bit to grow them at the palace grounds.” “Palace?” He asked curiously. I gazed at him as I shrugged. “My name is Claus by the way.” He said to me. “Zeeklah. Well, that is my name unless you end up calling me Your Highness like the rest of them.” I said sarcastically.