"Sir. It's not that I doubt you, but do you have any proof?", asked the curator carefully.
"Hmpf. Naturally my paintings are the best proof!"
"Well, if you have really inherited the skills of Quipp, that's indeed the case. However, what if you just found one of his paintings?"
"Ridiculous. I can find one painting but what about two? Five? Ten?"
The woman in red nodded lightly but she was not entirely convinced. Valentino might be making things up to increase the price of the painting in his hands. Without evidence she had to remain careful.
"Alright, Valentino. Am I allowed to call you that?"
"Sure."
"Thank you. I'm Alena by the way."
Valentino only nodded lightly. He was slowly becoming impatient.
"Alright then, Valentino. Please go ahead and present your painting."
"Mhm."
Valentino didn't hesitate. He walked towards one of the easels, stopped for a moment, and carefully observed the light. Unsatisfied, he walked to the next easel and did the same. Still not satisfied. Test the third easel… utterly inadequate! Valentino shook his head, disappointed that the gallery's standards had lowered so much. He could only go back to the second easel and carefully placed the canvas on in. He held the black cloth with one hand, turning towards the curator:
"Are you prepared, Miss Alena?"
Alena was already ridiculing Valentino inwardly for putting up such an unnecessary show. However, she wouldn't lose her professionalism. If Valentino indeed held a real 'Quipp' it was important to be mentally prepared. Alena took a deep breath before nodding at Valentino. With a dramatic gesture the young man finally threw away the black cloth, revealing his precious painting.
Instantly everything Alena could see was the painting. It was a green mist holding horrifying human faces and abstruse patterns. The mist seemed to move, impacting one's mind. The faces roared and screamed, venting all their negative emotions. The patterns moved in mysterious ways, luring one in.
With one look Alena was enthralled. This was indeed the mysterious feeling. She had seen paintings created by 'Quipp' and 'Ellfand' before. They had the same weirdness about them. However, she had never experienced the feeling this strongly. Alena was actually inclined to believe Valentino's claims.
At that moment, a scream suddenly echoed through the room. One of the faces in the painting jumped out of the canvas, puncing on Alena like a hungry ghost.
"AH!"
Alena let out a startled cry as she returned to reality. Cold sweat ran down her back. The painting looked like any normal painting, but Alena didn't dare to glance at it anymore.
"So, what do you think? I call this masterwork: Return!"
Dizziness kept assaulting Alena's brain. She had to gather all her focus just to stop herself from speaking. She couldn't lose her bearings! Whatever she said now would affect the price. Always the professional, Alena managed to suppress herself for a minute until she finally managed to calm down.
"A good painting indeed. I can confirm that this is a Quipp."
Valentino stared at the woman in red with wide eyes, blowing his nostrils:
"Good? Only good? This is amazing! A masterwork! One of my best works ever! How could it be merely good?!"
"Well, you see. Although the familiar feeling is there but I think the artistic conception is lacking a little. Compared to past works of Norman Quipp, this one – whether it's his or yours – is nor really interesting to look at. The green is dominant and the…"
"Stop right there! Do you think you can fool me?! I have years of experience. No one knows the work of Norman Quipp better than me! The most important thing about Quipp's and my work is the life in the painting. Judging them by something else is simply amateurish."
"Listen, Sir. I know the life is important. But it can also be too overwhelming. 'Return' might shock our costumers so much that they never come back. This won't be easy to sell."
"Hmpf. You are clearly arguing in bad faith. Fine! Name your price! I will decide if it is to my liking or not!"
Alena and Valentino stared at each other, fighting a silent battle. The curator calculated for a while before finally spitting out a number:
"Two million."
Valentino didn't even react. He turned around, picked up the black cloth from the ground and wrapped his painting before strutting to the door, demonstratively turning his head away from Alena.
"T… two million four hundred thousand!"
Valentino didn't stop. The sound of the closing door rang in the room and only Alena remained, frowning, a shadow falling over her eyes.
Crossing the gallery Valentino attracted some attention. The people who watched his arrival snickered seeing that he was still carrying his canvas below his arm. Yet Valentino held his head high. He knew that soon all this people would beg on their knees for a painting. He only needed to get his name out there.
Obviously Seronion's Gallery was not interested in being the one to deliver coal in the cold winter. Valentino was disappointed in their lack of foresight. But it didn't matter. Golden City had more than one prominent gallery. Someday Seronion's Gallery would regret it when they realized that they had landed on Valentino's blacklist.
Subsequently Valentino left the gallery, returning to the main road. He rummaged through his memories and recalled more high-profile galleries. Not losing even a bit of confidence he aimed for the closest one. Yet when he arrived there, he was stunned.
Seronion's Gallery…
It was also Seronion's Gallery! Clearly, the former owner had sold this place. Valentino cursed inwardly and turned around, heading for the next location. He stopped in front of the building and found… a theatre. Whatever. Continue trying.
Seronion's Gallery, restaurant, Seronion's Gallery, night club, Seronion's Gallery…
Valentino reached the end of the main road, stumbling into the prestigious Miracle Park, and sitting down on a bench. His head was dizzy, and he felt left behind by the world. Could it be that the only gallery left in the Golden City was Seronion's? What happened? Although Valentino remembered that Seronion's used to be quite outstanding, they were never this dominant.
As Valentino stared blankly at a frolicking water fountain in front of him, an older man sat down next to him. The man had black hair with streaks of grey, wearing a fine suit and round glasses. He pulled out a golden coin and let it run between his fingers.
Valentino looked over and spontaneously spoke up:
"Sir, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure. Go ahead, young man."
The older man scrutinized Valentino, considering his appearance rather odd. A young man wearing a vintage-styled suit and carrying a black bundle with him.
"Say, sir. Are you from the Golden City?"
"Well, I didn't grow up here, but I spent a lot of time here…"
"Hm. Perhaps you can help me then. Do you know what happened to all the galleries in the city? Why is there only Seronion's left?"
"Oh, I heard about Seronion's but I'm not that knowledgeable either."
"Well, thank you anyways…"
"Wait, wait. Young man, why don't we just look it up?"
The older man smiled lightly. He was someone who enjoyed helping others. As the older man pulled out his phone, Valentino watched curiously, but a hint of anger flashed through his mind. It was this kind of modern phone, seemingly called Smartphone, which killed Emmanuel. However, perhaps this was a good chance to learn more so he wouldn't repeat the same mistake again.
Thus, Valentino narrowed his eyes, staring intently, confusing the older man. The latter slowed down for a moment. However, there were all kinds of strange people in the Golden City, and he had long become used to it. He swiped on his touchscreen, finding the browser app after two tries and searched for news on Seronion's. Quickly a few articles popped up. The older man browsed one or two to get an overview before turning towards Valentino.
"So, it looks like Seronion's has indeed almost become a monopole, especially in the Golden City. They have discovered the wonders of online marketing early, attracting rich people from all over the globe by publishing the stories of various artists. The more excentric and over-the-top their artists, the better. People enjoy the entertainment, visiting Seronion's in hope of encountering something amusing. Coupled with some generous investments Seronion's has risen meteorically, overtaking the competition."
Valentino mulled over the man's words, coming up with even more questions. He stared at the smartphone, asking:
"How did you learn this so quickly?"
"Haha, young man, shouldn't you know this better than me?"
The older man laughed but he suddenly noticed the question marks in Valentino's eyes. Could it be… did the young man really not know about smartphones? Perhaps he was too poor to think about it. Yes, now it makes sense! The man's outfit together with his questions, he must be a poor artist trying to impress Seronion's!
Glancing at the bundle in Valentino's arms, the older man though he had figured it out. Feeling a mix of pity and the love of helping others the older man spent a few minutes explaining everything he knew about smartphones to Valentino. Although the older man only had the most basic skills, he could still see the amazement in Valentino's eyes. It was absolutely worth it getting lessons from his grandchildren!