Novel & Cerita The Masterpiece

Next to her sat the person they knew best, who was even disgusted when a woman sat so close to him. Now he even seemed to be sharing food with that girl. “Do you like this recipe?” They all heard how the young master asked in a gentle, deep voice. This made them immediately gape in disbelief. Is that the man over there the young master's twin? But that's impossible, the young master didn't have any brothers that's why he's the onbe and only heir to the Dawson family. “Y-Young M-Ma…” Thomas was just about to call out to him but stopped when Zachary glanced at them and narrowed his eyes sharply.

He can always snap, may it be by accident or not. "The Master will see you two now." Henchman said as he appeared from behind the closed doors. I gave a pitiful sigh as we stood and walked into the meeting room. I just wanted to rest for now, unwind from the haunting image of the Kingdom. Not that I would get much rest do to my traumatic nightmares. But it was still nice to have small breaks. Upon our entry Master had his arms crossed over his chest, back against the back rest of the chair. He appeared displeased.

At the same time, they were the cream of the crop in their respective areas. "Ambrose, I didn't expect that you'd be able to procure a real artwork produced by Callis, the Saint of Brush. To think that it's also a painting featuring the God of Wisdom, too! You really are amazing!" Winston exclaimed in surprise. Everyone knew that Callis painted everything, though he was a master in painting anything related to the Bardoran Order, the supernatural elements involving spirits and deities, as well as humanoid characters. One could say that this painting of the God of Wisdom was one of Callis' masterpieces. It was definitely a piece of priceless artwork.

I looked around the big mansion trying to find the room. Finally, I found the room yesterday Lina told me about the directions but I was still not sure. I bit my lip still not sure about going in or not. But then finally I did. I was left mesmerized at how beautiful and luxurious it was. It was two times bigger than my room. My eyes fell on Master who was sleeping in his king-sized bed. And he was shirtless. God, I gulped heavily. I didn't want to see him like this but I have no other option.

“Perhaps it is fated that only a grandmaster-level master like Master Rockefeller could play this song with Zendaya and convey its essences.” Wilson and the rest, who were sitting next to Alan, were shocked to hear his remark. They wanted to see what was so great about the so-called master, that he could make the First Piano Prince of Hong Kong praise him highly. Soon after, the curtains were drawn. This time, a holographic image of a medieval artistic conception was portrayed on the big screen. Drizzled in misty rain, the scenery of the south river that was accompanied by the mountains was as beautiful as a picture.

He dropped me on the bed and moved out of my sight. I noticed the walls were plain white but a particular painting hanging on the side of the wall directly opposite me grabbed my attention. It was the painting of a man with fiery red eyes and horns protruding from his bald head. He was in all black, a sick smile molded on his face. He looked to be seated on an iron throne, with blazing flames. It was a really weird painting to behold. I couldn't place it's meaning but I understood it wouldn't be something good. I was lost in my thoughts until I heard a little whimper coming from one end of the room. My eyes darted to where the sound was coming from and they widened in horror.

It seemed he knew nothing about this sophisticated art. Suddenly, the crowd erupted into murmurs of amazement. "What's happening?" Jasmine asked, confused, glancing over. On the stage, a masterpiece embellished with gold foil was being presented. The words 'World's Best' caught everyone's attention. The script was majestic and awe-inspiring. "This is the world's best regular script! It's hailed as the top calligraphy of our time. It's just two words, but this piece has solidified its position in the contemporary calligraphy world!

“Your name?” I composed myself and gripped my skirt, trying not to run to the door. “I’m…” I trailed off and glanced at the folders on the floor before looking at him again. “Amity Escobar.” He turned his eyes to his desk before spinning himself around to face the floor-to-ceiling window. “The famous teacher,” he stated. “I was thinking of you, Ms. Escobar.” My hands started to get sweaty. “What you look like…and how beautiful you are to be the talk of the town,” he continued.

Half the people act like animals, the other half like robots. The interior of the house is impeccably clean. The chandeliers shine, the marble on the stairs is polished, the carpets pale, and there is no dust on the furniture. Manfred took care of the cleaning, apparently. I don't have any employees, because I don't want to disturb my peace by putting someone else here. Manfred continues because it's discreet. He does not let his presence be noticed. I climb the stairs to the second floor, then head to the master bedroom. Right at the entrance, there is a painting of Medusa. This is an oil painting on canvas mounted on wood, by Michel Angelo Merisi da Caravaggio.

And Fantasy was His masterpiece. Invitation-only and wrapped in secrecy, the club existed beneath layers of silence and reputation. No websites advertised it openly. No public guest lists existed. Access came only through whispered recommendations, careful vetting, and the rare blessing of an invitation personally approved by The Master Himself. Inside, however, Fantasy became something entirely different from its modest exterior. It breathed.