The Psychotic Girl’s Revenge

A hush fell over the entire venue.

If “Flaming Sunflower” had conveyed a surge of vitality, “First Snow Maiden” evoked an inexplicable sense of oppression. Only when the staff wheeled the painting out did they realize its real-life presence was even more powerful than on screen.

“I’ve never seen someone capture snow so delicately and beautifully in oil paint,” someone marveled aloud.

“Where’s the maiden? Is that snow or did the girl die buried in the snow?” another guest whispered.

“This painting…-it’s both beautiful and haunting.”

The snowscape was painted so exquisitely, more beautiful than real snow, yet the splatters of red were profoundly unsettling, making it hard to breathe.

Paige sat calmly, feeling a heavy breath beside her. Enrico stared at her as if she were some kind of demon.

Paige was puzzled. What was wrong with him?

He grabbed her wrist tightly, eyes flashing with a terrifying light. “Why-?”

It hurt so much… Paige felt like he was about to crush her bones. She was just about to slap him when Enrico suddenly released her hand. He turned away, continuing to gaze at the painting on display, his face pale.

Is he okay? Paige wondered. Was her painting that terrifying? Enough to make the CEO of A Nation’s top conglomerate turn pale?

Yes, “First Snow Maiden” was her painting. In order to submit the artwork smoothly, she put in a lot of effort to successfully send it out.

Ignoring her again, Enrico just stared at the painting.

“The five nominated artworks have all been exhibited. Now the judges will step forward to individually evaluate each one and decide which two will advance to the final round,” the host announced.

The judges invited to the Obsidian Award were all highly respected figures in the art world, ensuring the competition’s credibility. Over the years, winners had left their mark in the art world.

Several judges, both men and women, stepped forward, their expressions serious as they evaluated each painting.

“I still think ‘Flaming Sunflower’ surpasses the others. Its charm exceeds last year’s Obsidian Award winner’s work; if this had been around last year, it would have easily won,” a female artist remarked.

“I find ‘First Snow Maiden’ reminiscent of Master Chris’s style.”

Chris was renowned for leaving mysteries in her work-‘Fishing Alone’ showed no fisherman, ‘Walk in the Woods’ showed no trees. “First Snow Maiden” also lacked a young girl, leaving much to the imagination.

Molly, listening below, couldn’t help but snort disdainfully. “Hmph, deliberate imitation, isn’t it? Even though the Obsidian Award was initiated by Master Chris, there’s no need to be so obsequious.”

Her voice was low but still heard.

“Miss, no one can imitate Master Chris’s art, her works are too profound. Countless have tried to mimic her, only to fail miserably. Even copying one of her pieces is impossible to capture its essence. You won’t find a single fake of Master Chris’s works on the black market because they’re too difficult to replicate. So, to say something has ‘Master Chris’s style’ is the highest praise possible.”

Molly blushed at her lack of knowledge. Fortunately, the dim lighting hid her embarrassment from others’ view.

The judges continued their deliberations, focusing on two paintings throughout. Paige glanced at Enrico beside her, still fixated on “First Snow Maiden.” For some reason, she felt he was seeing something through the painting…

Feeling the timing was right, she suddenly bent over, clutching her stomach. “Ow, it hurts…”

Enrico acted as if he hadn’t heard.

What’s he up to, ignoring her again? Paige sighed inwardly, pretending her stomach was hurting, nudging him with her elbow to get his attention. But Enrico didn’t even glance at her. Instead, a female staff member, who had been observing the scene, approached politely.

“Miss, are you feeling unwell?” she asked.

“… Pain,” Paige said, still clutching her stomach.

The staff member looked slightly surprised by her childish expression, it appeared more like a child than an adult. Glancing at Enrico, who still showed no sign of looking their way, the staff member gently asked, “Would you like to go to the restroom? Shall I accompany you?”

Paige nodded hastily, standing up and following her out.

As they walked, Paige glanced back at Enrico. He seemed completely unaware that she had left, still staring at the painting. Why did he stare at it so intensely? Well, at least with him occupied with the painting, she didn’t have to worry about him checking up on her.

Paige followed the staff member into the restroom.

“Feel free to take your time, I’ll wait outside.”

Waiting outside? Such good service. Paige marveled, heading inside and closing the door. She walked to the window and glanced outside-it was all security guards downstairs.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

She had expected this, so she had Kevin’s people place the package not outside but on the rooftop.

She leaned out of the window, looking up at the roof, and easily spotted a hair-thin line on the wall. With a pull, a package dropped from the rooftop into her hands.

Paige caught it effortlessly, closed the window, and returned to the restroom.

When she emerged, the staff member no longer recognized her.

…

On the third floor venue, the two selected artworks, “Flaming Sunflower” and “First Snow Maiden,” had been chosen amid heated debates about who would win the Obsidian Award.

The competition was on the verge of turning into a heated debate session when the host hurriedly stepped forward to stabilize the situation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your passionate discussions only prove that these two artworks are truly exceptional.”

Upon hearing this, Molly couldn’t hide her satisfaction. Soon, she would stand on stage as the victor, right within Enrico’s view.

“Let’s do this: let’s invite the two contestants to the stage to talk about their creative journeys, shall we?” the host suggested, aiming to momentarily halt the judges’ disputes.

Enrico remained seated, his handsome face expressionless.

“So let’s invite the contestants to the stage. First, the author of ‘Flaming Sunflower,’ known online as SunnySmiles.”

The host glanced toward the seating area.

Molly held her breath, exuding confidence as she stood up. She smoothed her hair to ensure her appearance was flawless before elegantly lifting her long gown and walking towards the front, greeted by applause from below.

The host welcomed Molly onto the stage with admiration, “So ‘Flaming Sunflower’ was painted by Miss Clarke? It’s truly stunning. Your singing voice is great, and now this artwork-what a talent!”

Standing next to her artwork, Molly smiled graciously. “You flatter me. Painting is just a hobby of mine in my spare time.”

“Well, you’re definitely gifted.”

“You’re too kind.”Molly glanced discreetly towards the front row seats.

The stage was relatively close to the front row seats, and there she finally saw Enrico seated in the center. Even in the dim lighting, his figure stood out prominently.

Molly couldn’t help her racing heart. But when she looked again, she noticed that Enrico’s gaze remained fixed elsewhere on the stage.

Following his line of sight, she saw it was directed towards the “First Snow Maiden.” Her smile froze on her face.

“Now, let’s invite the other contestant to the stage, the author of ‘First Snow Maiden,’ known online as…” The host glanced at the cue card, hesitating momentarily, “known online as TwinkleToes.”

There was silence throughout the room as everyone looked around.

No one stepped forward.

The host also glanced towards where the contestant was seated, and had to repeat, “Is TwinkleToes here?”

“Is TwinkleToes here?” the host asked again.

“I’m here.” A hoarse female voice suddenly echoed.

Everyone immediately turned to look, and the stage lights promptly focused on the source of the voice.

Upon hearing this, Enrico finally shifted his gaze and looked up.

Molly followed his gaze and was equally stunned.

Standing in the spotlight was an enormously obese figure, wrapped in a coat that covered her body. Her long hair was pinned up, and she wore a white mask that obscured her true face. She even had leather gloves on, leaving no skin exposed.

The host was also taken aback, only recovering when the overweight woman stepped onto the stage. “Are you… Miss TwinkleToes?”

“Yes.”

The obese woman was none other than Paige.

Needing the money desperately but unable to let Enrico recognize her, she resorted to this disguise. She lowered her voice to avoid detection.

“Why are you dressed like this?” the host asked, perplexed.