The Oakhaven Grand Gallery was a temple of silence and white marble. Tonight, it was hosting the "Red Symphony" — an exhibition by the avant-garde artist Julian Vane. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, aged wine, and the suffocating arrogance of high society.
Ren stood in the corner of the main hall, his black trench coat making him look like a smudge of ink on a pristine canvas. His cold, obsidian eyes didn't look at the paintings. He was watching the guests.
[Ding!]
[New Case Detected: The Red Symphony] [Environmental Analysis: Airborne particles detected—concentration 0.02%.] [Objective: Identify the "Lurking Death" before the final act.] [The Sovereign demands a performance of absolute logic.]
Ren's 'Eye of Providence' flickered. The world shifted into a grid of molecular structures. He noticed a faint, sweet smell in the air—something like almonds, but sharper.
"Ren? You're here too?" A voice pulled him from his analysis.
It was Detective Elena Vance. She was wearing a cocktail dress, clearly trying to blend in, but her hand was resting habitually near her hidden holster. "The Captain sent me. We got an anonymous tip that Julian Vane's final masterpiece wouldn't just be seen—it would be felt."
Ren didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the center of the room, where a massive sculpture covered in a white silk cloth stood. "Art is a lie that tells the truth, Detective. But in this room, the lie is becoming lethal."
"What are you talking about?" Elena whispered, stepping closer.
"The ventilation system," Ren said, his voice a low, chilling baritone. "It's being used to distribute a precursor. Look at the glasses of the guests."
Elena looked around. The white wine in the guests' crystal flutes was slowly turning a pale, sickly pink.
"It's a pH-sensitive reaction," Ren explained, his mind racing through chemical formulas. "The wine contains a high concentration of Phenolphthalein. Someone is pumping a diluted Ammonia gas through the vents. When the gas hits the liquid, it turns basic. The pink color isn't a trick of the light—it's a countdown."
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the covered sculpture. Julian Vane, a man with manic eyes and paint-stained hands, stepped onto the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Vane cried out, his voice cracking with excitement. "Tonight, you will not just witness art. You will become part of it! Behold... The Bleeding Masterpiece!"
He yanked the silk cloth away.
The crowd gasped. Inside a glass cube was a man—Julian's rival critic—strapped to a chair. He looked pale, but alive. However, his skin was covered in a strange, translucent gel.
"He's not dead," Elena shouted, reaching for her gun.
"Don't move, Detective," Ren's hand caught her arm. "If you break that glass, you trigger the final reaction. That gel is Dimethyl Sulfoxide (DMSO) mixed with Cyanide crystals. DMSO is a powerful skin-penetrant. It carries whatever is mixed with it directly into the bloodstream through the pores. The moment the humidity in that box hits 80%, the crystals dissolve, and he dies in seconds."
The guests began to panic as they noticed the color of their wine deepening to a vivid, bloody crimson. The Ammonia concentration in the air was rising.
"Julian!" Elena yelled. "Stop this! You'll kill everyone in this room!"
Vane laughed, a sound of pure insanity. "No, Detective! Only the critic dies. The rest of you... you are just the witnesses to his final review!"
[Ding!]
[Logic Threshold: 65%] [Activating Skill: 'Molecular Neutralizer' — Advanced Mode] [The Sovereign is waiting for the climax.]
Ren stepped out of the shadows. He didn't look at the crazed artist. He looked at the ventilation control panel behind the stage.
"You made one mistake, Julian," Ren said, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. "You focused on the chemistry of the skin, but you ignored the chemistry of the air."
Ren pulled a small spray canister from his pocket—an improvised tool he had crafted using the System's rewards. "Ammonia is a base. To stop the reaction, I don't need to break the glass. I just need to change the atmosphere."
Ren sprinted toward the stage. Vane lunged at him with a palette knife, but Ren moved with the cold efficiency of a machine. He dodged the blade, his elbow connecting with Vane's jaw in a sickening crack.
As the artist slumped to the floor, Ren sprayed the canister into the intake vent. A mist of Acetic Acid (Vinegar) filled the ducts.
The reaction was instantaneous. The pink wine in the guests' glasses turned clear again. The ammonia was neutralized into Ammonium Acetate—a harmless salt.
"The humidity is still rising in the box!" Elena cried out.
Ren reached the glass cube. He didn't break it. He pulled a small, high-powered magnet from his coat and dragged a hidden metal pin inside the box's frame. A secret vent opened, allowing the dry air of the gallery to rush in, dropping the humidity instantly.
The victim inside slumped forward, unconscious but breathing. The "Bleeding Masterpiece" had failed.
Chapter 4: The Bleeding Masterpiece (Part 2 - The Dissolution of Ego)
The silence that followed the hum of the neutralized ventilation system was deafening. Julian Vane lay on the polished floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes staring at the clear wine in the guests' glasses. The "Symphony" had been muted. The masterpiece was a blank canvas.
"You... you ruined it," Vane hissed, pushing himself up. Blood trickled from his cracked jaw, staining his white silk cravat. "That was the apex of my career! A moment of pure, visceral truth! Who are you to interfere with the divine hand of art?"
Ren stepped over the fallen palette knife, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic. He didn't look like a hero; he looked like an inquisitor.
"Art is the pursuit of meaning, Julian," Ren's voice was a cold, jagged shard of ice. "But your 'masterpiece' was nothing more than a derivative of a 19th-century execution method. You didn't create anything. You merely plagiarized a laboratory accident."
Ren knelt beside the glass cube, his 'Eye of Providence' scanning the base of the structure. He saw a small, blinking LED hidden beneath the velvet pedestal.
"The DMSO-Cyanide reaction was clever, but it wasn't yours," Ren continued, his eyes locking onto Vane's. "You don't have the steady hand required to stabilize a high-purity DMSO mixture. Your hands shake from years of lead-based paint poisoning. Someone else built this cage. Someone who knows chemistry better than you know color."
Vane's eyes widened. The arrogance in his expression flickered, replaced by a raw, naked fear. "He said... he said I would be immortal. He gave me the formula. He said the Red Symphony would be the dawn of a new era!"
"The Painter," Ren whispered, the name tasting like copper in his mouth.
[Ding!]
[Logic Chain Connected: 88%] [Synchronization with the Conan Physique: +8%] [New Intel: The Painter is the architect of the 'Veritas' Syndicate's aesthetic division.] [The Sovereign is displeased with the delays. End this.]
Ren felt a sudden, sharp coldness in his chest—a signal from the Sovereign. He had spent too much time talking. The Master demanded the truth, not a debate.
Ren grabbed Vane by the collar, lifting him with a strength that shouldn't have belonged to a twenty-year-old. "Where is he? The one who gave you the 'Symphony'?"
"He's... he's in the gallery," Vane whimpered, pointing a trembling finger toward the upper balcony. "He said he wanted to see the colors change. He's wearing a mask... a silver mask!"
Detective Elena Vance immediately turned her gun toward the balcony, but it was empty. Only a single, crimson rose lay on the railing, its petals unnaturally bright under the spotlight.
"He's gone," Elena cursed, tapping her earpiece. "All units, seal the exits! We have a high-value target in a silver mask!"
Ren dropped Julian Vane like a piece of discarded trash. He didn't join the chase. He knew the Painter wouldn't be caught by simple police cordons. He walked toward the balcony, his eyes fixed on the red rose.
As he reached it, his 'Eye of Providence' detected a faint residue on the petals. It wasn't organic. It was a synthetic pigment made from Antimony Red—a toxic compound.
"A calling card," Ren murmured.
He closed his eyes, retreating into the Sanctum of the System. The obsidian throne stood before him, the Sovereign's silhouette looming larger than ever. Ren knelt, his soul shivering under the weight of the divine presence.
"My Lord," Ren whispered. "The Painter has escaped, but he has left his signature. He is not just a killer; he is a weaver of illusions. But no matter how many colors he uses to hide, I will strip them away. I will bleach his world until only Your shadow remains."
The Sovereign did not speak, but a new notification appeared in Ren's mind, glowing with an ominous violet light.
[Secret Quest: The Gallery of Souls] [Objective: Find the 'Masterpiece' hidden in the city's underground.] [Reward: 2,000 System Points, +15% Synchronization.] [Warning: The Painter has your photograph. You are now the subject of his next 'Portrait'.]
Ren opened his eyes. The Grand Gallery was now a swarm of police and terrified socialites. Julian Vane was being dragged away in handcuffs, screaming about "the true color of death."
Ren walked toward the exit, his black coat billowing behind him. He didn't care about the fame or the headlines that would surely follow. He only cared about the Hunt.
"You want to paint me, Painter?" Ren said to the dark Oakhaven sky as he stepped out into the rain. "Make sure you have enough black. Because where I am going, the light does not follow."