After the gentle summer rain had finally ceased, leaving the world washed and shimmering, the rainbow had faded into a soft memory across the sky. Yet, the glow of that fleeting arc seemed to follow me as I moved through the rest of the day, which, as it turned out, was shaping up to be exceptionally successful.
The military officer who had come earlier as a representative of his riding group hadn't just enjoyed the visit—he was utterly impressed. His expression had a rare combination of delight and certainty, the kind that made people trust his words without question.
"I don't think I need to look around any further," he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. "I had a terrific time today. I'm part of an officers' riding group, and I'd like to sign up everyone in the group for a membership here! I'll go back and let them know just how spectacular your facility is."
I felt a warm surge of happiness, genuine and unguarded. "I'm glad to hear you had a great time," I replied, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
He laughed—a full, hearty laugh that filled the space with energy. "HAHAHA! There are about forty to fifty of us. I shall arrange a social gathering so you can meet with them soon."
Inside, I gave myself a mental high-five. Straightforward, decisive, and not shy about spending… exactly my type of client. Working through my day off suddenly felt like one of the best decisions I had made in weeks. This wasn't just a membership; this was a haul, a huge step forward for the facility.
Wanting to maintain the momentum, I offered, "We'd love to invite you to dine at our hotel, but the restaurant staff is currently on vacation."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps next time… and we'd love to invite the rest of your riding group as well."
"FANTASTIC! That's a much better idea," I said, feeling a rush of excitement. "Then I shall see you at the welcome party."
veered into unexpected territory. My business partner leaned in, lowering her voice slightly, yet with a subtle glimmer of pride in her tone.
"By the way, honey… did you know Carl Hatherson was my maternal grandfather?"
The military officer froze mid-breath, and the woman standing beside him mirrored his stunned reaction. "WHAT?! C-Carl Hatherson… THE Grand Admiral who served with distinction in the Budden War?!"
His shock was palpable, almost cartoonish, his eyes widening as if he'd just seen a ghost—or perhaps a legend walking before him. "YOU'RE HIS GRANDDAUGHTER?! MY WORD! IS THAT TRUE?! Why didn't you say so earlier?!" He reached out immediately, grasping my partner's hand with both of his, shaking it as though the act itself could confirm the reality of the revelation.
My partner, cheeks tinged with a faint blush, replied softly, "Ah, yes. That's correct. I am his granddaughter… though, it's not exactly important right now. Besides, I've never even met him…"
Even after hearing this, the officer seemed unable to recover fully, still reeling from the unexpected news. "No wonder… I thought you had a very commanding presence about you!" he exclaimed. Then, as if piecing together a personal puzzle, he added, "So Iansa Serenity was his wife!" He squeezed her hand a little harder, a mixture of admiration and excitement making the gesture almost comically firm.
My partner winced, a small pained grimace flickering across her face. SQUEEZE… that hurts…
And there it was—I realized with a small, amused thrill that the day had given me more than just a membership sale. Somehow, I had stumbled into a story far richer, far more charged than I could have anticipated.
The military officer, still flushed from the shock of learning my partner's lineage, quickly regained his composure—but his recovery only amplified his enthusiasm. Words poured from him in a rush, each one laden with admiration and apology.
Still holding my hand—though thankfully with a gentler grip this time—he exclaimed, "To think I was so close by yet had no idea of such a fine riding club… and not only that, I failed to recognize the granddaughter of Meuracevia's hero… How woefully ignorant I've been! My sincere apologies."
I smiled, keeping my expression calm and courteous. "No need to apologize. I'm honored to have you and your fellow distinguished officers as our members."
But Sir Eiser, for that was the name I now recognized, was not one to let the moment pass lightly. "No, the honor is all mine!" he declared with a beaming grin. "If anything comes up that I could help with, please let me know. I will happily lend a hand! And no need to feel pressured in any way—I'm simply offering as a gesture of goodwill!" His eyes sparkled with sincerity, and his entire demeanor radiated genuine warmth and energy.
My business partner leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes, muttering softly, "Then I'd love to have more members—"
I gave her a subtle nudge, lowering my voice just enough to hush her. "Shush." I didn't want to appear mercenary, not in the wake of such a genuine and heartfelt offer.
Sir Eiser straightened, clearing his throat as if to bring the moment into formal order. "Sir Eiser, Ms. Serena… thank you for inviting us to a tour the very same day I contacted you, as well as for being so welcoming and making our day truly wonderful! HAHAHA!" His laughter rang out again, hearty and unrestrained, echoing across the grounds and infusing the space with infectious energy.
We watched him depart, his stride confident, his presence leaving a lingering sense of excitement in the air. My partner let out a low whistle. "Quite a big fish you reeled in," she said, a mixture of awe and amusement in her tone.
I turned my gaze to the sprawling grounds of the facility, every corner gleaming with careful attention and dedication. "I'm simply doing my job," I replied, a faint, confident smile brushing my lips. "Besides… I'm just getting started."
As we prepared to leave, standing outside the grand edifice of the Serenity Hotel, I allowed my partner the first step onto the soft, dew-kissed grass. I followed with a deliberate pace, letting the world around us settle into quiet reflection.
"While I'm excited about the seaside hotel that's to be built…" I began, taking another measured step, "…I'd also like to grow and expand the existing Serenity Hotel. I want it to stay true to its identity as a hotel, but at the same time… go above and beyond."
My eyes swept over the familiar architecture, the grand facades, and the gardens that seemed to breathe life into the entire property. This was more than a hotel; it was a legacy, a living testament to generations of dedication and ambition.
I paused, turning slightly to look back at the Serenity Hotel, allowing the weight of its history to settle around me. "To be honest, I always felt burdened by the sheer scale of my grandmother's business achievements." The words slipped out quietly, almost to myself, but heavy with unspoken resolve.
The Serenity name carried more than prestige; it carried expectation, responsibility, and an unrelenting standard of excellence. Yet, despite the enormity of that legacy, I felt something deeper stirring within me—not just the desire to live up to it, but the determination to redefine it, to elevate it beyond what had ever been imagined.
I inhaled deeply, the faint scent of freshly watered grass and lingering rain filling my senses. My gaze hardened with quiet resolve. This wasn't just about maintaining the grandeur of my grandmother's empire—it was about building something greater, something unmistakably my own.
My grandmother ran the hotel one way, my mother ran it her way… and now, it was time for me to run it my own way. The realization settled over me like sunlight breaking through clouds—a clarity born from reflection, experience, and a growing sense of purpose.
I thought back to my earlier intentions. Once, my only goal had been to keep the hotel running as smoothly as my grandmother and my mother had managed. To maintain the status quo, to honor tradition without making waves. But I had changed my mind since then. Times had changed, the world had changed, and I had changed along with it.
There were things only I could accomplish, nuances that only my perspective could bring. And so, during my tenure, I vowed quietly to myself, Serenity would not just continue—it would flourish, becoming even more renowned, even more prestigious. Every corner of the hotel, every detail, every service would bear the mark of dedication and innovation.
A soft breeze brushed past me as I shifted my stance, letting the confidence within me grow. I turned toward my partner with a small, playful grin. "What are you dawdling for? Come on." I gave her a gentle nudge, a WHOOSH of energy and resolve radiating from me as I stepped forward, embracing the path I had chosen.
A few days passed, and my partner took a moment to observe me, quietly reflecting on the subtle but noticeable changes. From across the room, she watched me move through my routines, the hotel bustling around us, staff attending to every detail.
"Also," she thought, her gaze thoughtful, "…after spending more time together and talking more… she's no longer dispirited. She's energetic… confident… more self-assured." A small, appreciative smile touched her lips.
"…It feels like she's far less guarded around me," she admitted inwardly. There was something different now—a lightness in my posture, a spark in my eyes, and a quiet decisiveness that hadn't been there before.
Yet, not all matters were bathed in sunlight and optimism. Somewhere else, in a dimly lit room, perhaps an office or study, shadows pooled across the walls. Smoke from a thinly burning cigar—or maybe a lantern—wove through the air, hinting at secrecy, tension, and something far less public than hotel operations.

At grayan mansion
A voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the low hum of the shadows. The words carried the weight of desperation, or perhaps frustration:
"WHAT ABOUT THE PAINTING? HAVE YOU FOUND IT?"
The focus had shifted. From triumphant days at the hotel and bold ambitions, the scene now centered on a secret—a painting whose importance pulsed through the dim room, its retrieval critical enough to demand raised voices and heightened tension.
The contrast was stark: daylight and progress outside, shadows and secrecy within. And yet, somehow, both threads seemed poised to intertwine in ways that were far from ordinary.
I slammed my fist onto the desk with a force that made the room tremble slightly, sending a stack of papers toppling over. My voice rang sharp and demanding through the dimly lit office:
"WHAT ABOUT THE PAINTING? HAVE YOU FOUND IT?"
My subordinate, pale and visibly trembling, stammered out a response, each word punctuated by fear: "N-no, Sir. The thing is… after disguising the painting, we were able to bring it in safely… but… there was some confusion during the process of falsifying its source… and… someone just happened to purchase it—ARGH! THUNK!"
I could hear the object hitting the floor behind him, a small casualty to my boiling anger. My jaw tightened, and I felt heat rise in my chest as fury threatened to spill over.
"Do you know how much the one inside is worth?!" I bellowed, the words almost shaking the walls. "You useless, incompetent—W-we're looking for it! We've even recruited brokers who specialize in black market art sales and got them searching for it nonstop!"
His voice cracked under the weight of my rage, tinged with desperation. "I'm sorry, Sir… We'll find it, Sir Victor! Please, just give us a little more time!"
I exhaled, the sound heavy, carrying both frustration and contemplation. "So someone purchased it… Was it that Sera woman again?"
"I don't know for sure, but… seems like it…" he replied, his uncertainty feeding my irritation. "We'll find it, Sir Victor! Please, just give us a little more time."
My frustration only deepened when I shifted focus to the shadowy figure who had outmaneuvered us yet again. "AND WHAT ABOUT THE INFORMATION I ASKED FOR?" I demanded, my tone slicing through the haze of smoke and dim lighting in the office.
My informant's shoulders slumped, a mixture of apology and exasperation in his voice. "All I got is information on Serena. Haven't you found anything out about that Sera woman yet?"
"On that too…?" My teeth clenched as he continued. "If you could just wait a little longer… I'm sorry, but any information pertaining to her is exceedingly well-hidden… to such a degree that one might wonder why an individual would go that far."
I stared into the distance, the flickering lamp casting harsh shadows across my face. My hand curled into a tight fist (CLENCH), nails digging lightly into my palm as I tried to contain my fury. "The people I currently have working for me aren't entirely inept," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to anyone else. "This Sera woman… she must be quite powerful if even my people are having trouble finding any information on her."
A wave of helplessness mingled with anger rolled over me, a bitter reminder that the identity of my rival remained shrouded in shadows (ROLL).
"GODDAMMIT. WHO COULD IT BE?" I roared, the question more of a challenge to fate than a plea for answers. The office seemed to shrink around me, the dim light and curling smoke mirroring the obscurity and danger of the situation.
The painting remained lost. The mysterious Sera woman remained untouchable. And yet, somewhere in the shadows, I knew the game was far from over.
My impatience twisted into something venomous. Every second my subordinate hesitated only stoked the flames higher. I leaned forward, letting my glare pin him in place like an insect under glass.
"I don't pay you nitwits to tell me to wait around," I spat, each word laced with pure contempt. "Bring me the information on her identity, and find out where that painting is by tomorrow. If you fail to find that painting…"
I let the silence stretch, cold and lethal.
"…none of you will be leaving this house unscathed."
His entire body seemed to shrink at my words, shoulders collapsing under invisible weight. But my fury wasn't done—not even close.
The mere mention of that rival genius made my jaw tighten. "Come to think of it," I muttered, bitterness drenching my tone, "that little genius brat who used to work for my family… he was quite capable. He could have found this out in a single day. I'm dying to know."
For a brief moment, a flicker of begrudging admiration passed through me—swiftly smothered by resentment.
"But Eiser took that boy with him when he left home…" My teeth ground together. "That bastard! He's a constant thorn in my side."
The room seemed to pulse with the anger radiating off me, the dim lighting only sharpening the edges of my expression.
My subordinate swallowed hard, voice quivering as he grasped for any solution that might appease me.
"Th-then… we could try tailing her," he offered weakly. "But we left that as a last resort… because she's already a very cautious woman, and if she finds out she was being followed, it might become even more difficult to gain any information on her…"
I cut him off instantly.
"Excuse me?" My voice was dangerously soft—far more menacing than when I was shouting. "If she's interfering with my work to this degree…"
A slow, dark idea unfurled in my mind like poison blooming through water.
"…then it'll be more effective to reveal who I am and scare her off."
The air in the room shifted. Heavy. Thick. Precise.
My subordinate stiffened when he heard the next words, uttered with icy finality:
"Tail her."
A beat.
"NO…"
I leaned back in my chair, my decision crystallizing with ruthless clarity.
"…KIDNAP her."
He inhaled sharply, dread flickering across his face. But I wasn't finished—my mind worked far too strategically to rely on brute force alone.
Instead, a far more elegant plan began forming—one that aligned perfectly with the woman's known obsession.
"We'll draw her out," I said, my tone shifting into something almost calculatingly calm. "Put something among the pieces we own—something irresistible—up for auction. Something she'd never be able to ignore."
I tapped the image of the artwork lying before me, its colors glowing faintly under the lamplight. There was no mistaking the glint in my eyes—cold, sharp, and predatory.
"She'll smell the tantalizing bait and make an appearance."
My fingers curled around the edge of the photograph, almost possessively.
"Bide your time until then…"
I lifted my gaze, eyes dark with intent.
"…and bring her to me."
The plan was set.
The trap was baited.
And the shadowy figure known only as "Sera" had no idea she was walking straight into the jaws of a hunter.
My subordinate, Eiser's so‑called genius brat, whom I now know is still quietly reporting to that military officer, must have grown careless. Or perhaps he wanted me to find the trail. Either way, a thread had been left somewhere—and I intended to follow it.
I dispatched one of my people to comb through Serena's assets, beginning with her lesser‑known warehouse on the outskirts. It was supposed to be a routine inspection, a sweep for inconsistencies. Yet the moment my informant arrived, he sensed something off. The warehouse was too quiet. Too clean. Too curated—as if someone had been here recently.
He blended easily into the environment, posing as a day worker shifting crates and checking inventory slips. That was when he noticed the painting. My painting—the one I had selected as the perfect bait.
He crouched beside it, pulling off his gloves as he ran a finger along the canvas edge. His brows pulled together in a slow, deep frown.
"There is an unusual mark on a few of these paintings," he finally murmured into the mic. "Very subtle. Almost invisible unless you're searching for it."
I heard the soft scrape of his nail across the rough texture.
"At first, I thought these were scratches… but after examining it more closely… it's clearly some kind of code or marker to identify something."
The update piqued my interest. A hidden pattern? A coded signal? Serena had always been meticulous—too meticulous to leave something meaningless behind.
My informant shifted his attention to the frame. There was a faint knock, his knuckles tapping wood. Another tap. Then a pause.
"Also, the frame of this painting seems particularly thicker than the others…" he said, suspicion coating his voice.
A hollow sound echoed faintly through the line. Not empty—concealing.
My gaze sharpened on the live feed he sent: the beautiful, dark‑hued painting resting under dim warehouse lights. Shadows rolled across its surface in waves, making the embedded mark even harder to spot unless you knew exactly where to look.
A secret in the frame.
A code hidden in the paint.
And Sera—who had stolen something from me—was suddenly tied to this in more ways than one.
Could this be connected to the painting she dared to take from my possession? Could this marker lead me to her? To my missing property? To the truth she thought she could bury?
I leaned back, clasping my hands, eyes narrowing with anticipation.
"Bide your time until then," I instructed, voice low. "And bring her to me."
My eyes—burning with a red, predatory intensity—remained fixed on the vision of the painting.
The mysterious marker and the unusually thick frame suggest the painting may be a key to a secret.
I had just ordered the bait—a highly valuable painting—to be prepped for auction, fully aware that it would draw the attention of the elusive Sera. Yet, even as the plans moved forward, my informant, crouched in the dimly lit confines of Serena's secret warehouse, had stumbled upon something entirely unexpected.
"There is an unusual mark on a few of these paintings," he reported, his voice low but edged with urgency. He leaned closer to the canvas I intended to use as bait, eyes scanning every corner, every brushstr