Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 657

"Young gentleman, you don't need to lie to me. I won't expose your secret. But you should be more careful in the future. Not everyone is without malice."

Mrs. Scotter seemed certain that Jenkins was an Enchanter, but she merely pointed it out. With that, the woman nodded to Jenkins, picked up the picture frame, and turned to leave, but Jenkins stopped her.

"I'm sorry. About being an Enchanter... we can discuss that later. But I'm actually very curious about this painting. Since you believe I'm an Enchanter, you must also know that most of us have unique abilities. I can sense that this painting is extraordinary, but I don't know where that feeling comes from. Could you tell me the story behind it? To be honest, I'm a rather famous writer, and I'm truly intrigued by the story behind such a remarkable work of art."

The woman held no ill will toward Jenkins, and he had no desire for a conflict, so he chose a peaceful approach. Of course, he was also prepared to resolve things with force. All his possessions, including the metal block, were in a box under the counter. He was confident he could handle any trouble.

His luck was clearly holding up; the woman hesitated for a moment before granting his request. She placed the painting on the tabletop again, but her hand never left it.

"You're not the first to want to know our story, but the last person who tried to delve into it died forty-nine years ago. I'm always willing to share our tale with anyone who will listen; he, on the other hand, is not... This is not a story with a happy ending. I hope you're prepared."

Jenkins nodded. He could accept any kind of story, especially one he could hear for free.

"My name is Chulun Carmel, and his name is Spade Foote. We were lovers, living in an epoch long past."

She looked up at Jenkins's expression, but neither the young writer nor his cat was surprised. They both wore the same look of satisfied curiosity.

She spoke sorrowfully, her hand stroking the surface of the painting.

"There are countless ways to pursue the mystical, but we chose the wrong one. We made a pact with an ancient race of aberrations, trading our love to become Enchanters. But that race drew its power by blaspheming a powerful pseudo-god. When the day of retribution arrived, Spade and I met with misfortune as well. The deity cursed us, and from that moment on..." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel•fire.net

The man in the painting actually began to move, crying out futilely from his two-dimensional prison.

"From that moment on, we would take turns being trapped inside this painting, each for a hundred years at a time. During that century, the one in the painting and the one outside can only meet for a single day every ten years. After that day, they must part again or face a more terrible torment. The one who is 'alive' and free is destined to find another lover within their century, until the next hundred years begin, and they are trapped in the painting once more, forced to watch as their lover from ages past is freed, only to find a new beloved of their own."

This punishment genuinely shocked Jenkins. He couldn't imagine how much the deity who laid this curse must have hated the pair before him to devise such a thing.

But he didn't believe they were merely innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. After all, deities rarely pay attention to specific mortals, let alone go to the trouble of designing such a unique curse.

"So that's why you left this painting in Pops's care?"

He asked in a low voice, finding the story utterly fascinating.

"Yes, the ten-year period is over. I've come to get him... He has another thirty years until he is free, and in those thirty years, I can find another lover."

Jenkins couldn't fathom the woman's current feelings, nor could he judge the mood of the man in the painting. He could vaguely guess at the despair of living in that dark, empty space, but what was even more despairing was the thought of your other half living freely and finding a new love.

"Young man, you can spread our secret or keep it to yourself; it makes no difference. I hope you'll cherish the love you now hold and not wait until the future to realize you can never see them again."

She whispered her warning, once again picking up the painting to leave.

"In all these years, haven't you ever tried to find a way to break free?"

Jenkins was still curious, though he hadn't lost his caution.

"There is no escape. Even if we tell our story, people forget it almost immediately. Just conversation—once I am out of your sight for more than five seconds, all memories and records of it will vanish. That's also part of the curse. I'm sorry."

She gave Jenkins another nod, then walked out of the shop, holding the painting.

"Five, four, three, two, one."

He counted to five in his head. The events of a moment ago were still perfectly clear in his mind.

"Well, it looks like I can't tell Pops about this. Otherwise, I won't be able to explain why I remember."

Jenkins shrugged. He didn't really have any desire to investigate this further. He was just interested in the story behind it, and exploring too deeply would likely lead to more trouble.

As for helping the woman, he couldn't be bothered. There had to be a reason they were cursed by a god, and since she wasn't telling the whole truth, he felt no obligation to get involved.

"The trip is what's most important. I hope the weather is fine and the journey goes smoothly."

As he prayed, he rapped his knuckles on the table beside Chocolate, reminding the cat not to fall asleep, as they would be leaving the shop soon.

Although the year-end holiday only lasted three days, its lingering warmth could still be felt a week later. It was rare for the antique shop to get a customer so early in the morning, and even though she hadn't bought anything in the end, it was enough to put Jenkins in a cheerful mood.

As it neared ten in the morning, he prepared to leave for the club. He was slowly putting his overcoat back on when the woman who had taken the painting suddenly pushed the door open again and rushed inside.

Her face was no longer sorrowful, but filled with utter panic. "Sir, you probably don't remember the story I just told you, but you have to believe me!"