There was a cassette player in the corner next to the door to the small room. Mr. Taswide inserted a card, and soft music began to play.
"About a hundred years ago, the Kuntu family moved from Baihualing, across the sea, to Silvermist City in Lyria, and the head of the family at that time was none other than Victor Kuntu."
Tasved stood in front of the curtain and took off his gloves. He spoke in a deep and long tone, like the bells of a church at sunset.
"The hustle and bustle of the city quickly bored this naturally romantic owner, so he built a private estate in the suburbs. The specific location was roughly around the logging camp in the west of the city today. If you walk through the lush and bright sunflower fields, Some ruins can still be glimpsed.”
This is true. It seems that Mr. Tasved is not lying.
Ed nodded in agreement. He had personally inspected the place and almost lost his life.
"According to rumors, the carriages used for moving are coming in like a long snake, filled with rare treasures, antiques and famous paintings. Even the Oakland family's mansion pales in comparison..."
Speaking of this, Tasvid couldn't help but smile:
"Of course, this is just a rumor. I'm afraid it is somewhat processed, but it at least shows how wealthy the Kuntu family was at that time."
"...the entire Kuntu family lived an isolated life in the manor on the outskirts of the city. Only occasionally a four-wheeled carriage would leave from the manor and go into the city to sell the family owner's paintings and transport back the things they needed for life."
"The first half of the story sounds like a fairy tale, but the later part... is a bit sensational."
"The frequency of carriages traveling to and from the city became less and less until one day, an unoccupied black carriage slowly came to the sponsor's door."
"The whole carriage exuded such a stench that the sponsors suspected that the driver had purchased expired fish and meat. It wasn't until he opened the door that he was frightened out of his wits by what he saw -"
"The carriage was covered with blood, hair and bone fragments, and a dozen mutilated hands held an unfinished work without a drop of blood."
"People heard the crazy shouts of sponsors on the street, and then they discovered something unusual in the carriage. At that time, Laria did not have those black crows, so the mayor hurriedly came forward to contact the church and sent a team mainly composed of A patrol of clergymen heads to Kuntu Manor.”
"I saw that the manor had been destroyed by fire. Only a few branch members of the family escaped by chance. Most of them had gone insane. The owner of the family, Victor Quintu, was nowhere to be seen."
"After consultation with the church and the Oakland family, the mayor decided to completely block the news. The paintings by Victor on the market were quickly acquired and destroyed. People quickly forgot about this family and the horrific rumors... until I I learned this story from a certain male servant who had served the Kuntu family for three generations."
"As for this painting, the version I heard is that it was stolen by a bold drunkard, then appeared in the second-hand market in Flea Alley, and was quickly forgotten until one day it was stolen by a learned man. The painting dealer bought it for sixpence together with a broken ceramic vase, and it was only able to see the light of day again.”
"And I -" Tasved's beard twitched proudly, "I spent 7,000 pounds to buy this work, just to bring this story to light again and give you a glimpse of Victor Kuntu's supreme talent."
"Please see——"
He gently opened the curtain, and underneath it was another curtain. If you look closely, you will see that the curtain was originally depicted in the painting, and the shadows behind it seemed to have outlines.
"What is undisputed is that this is an incredible and strange work that spans the ages. With the shallow eyes of future generations like us, it is difficult to decipher the profound thoughts it wants to express."
"But I believe that benevolence has different opinions and wisdom. Everyone will feel what they think in their hearts through this strange curtain." Tasved made a non-painful comment.
Ed, who knew nothing about art appreciation, had to carefully observe Buck's eyes, which ranged from disdain to surprise, and finally turned into a gaze like dementia.
Could this really be the work of Victor Quinto?
Ed's eyes repeatedly wandered between Buck, the painting, and Taswide.
He believed in Buck's vision, but was skeptical of Mr. Taswide. Judging from the latter's words and deeds, he probably didn't know much better about art than himself.
For such a person to be able to pick up Victor Quinto's posthumous works with a keen eye, the probability of making a fortune by playing slot machines is probably about the same.
"Okay, the tour time of this exhibition hall is over. Next, we will visit Mr. Allen's masterpiece "One Hundred and Six Black Cats"... Well, my throat hurts when I talk, so I'd better go to the rest area to rest for a while. Have a cup of tea before continuing.”
Tasved cleared his throat and looked at Lady Mary with questioning eyes:
"Honey, are you coming with me?"
"No, you go ahead. I'll come over after packing up the paintings." Mrs. Mary shook her head.
"No, this painting is far more mysterious than you think. You can't stay alone in the room, it's too dangerous." Mr. Tasved looked embarrassed.
"What's the big deal? This painting has been in our house for several months. What could possibly go wrong?" Mrs. Mary insisted.
"Hey, everyone, please leave over there first, and let me and my wife talk for a while." He stretched out his right arm and said to everyone.
The crowd dispersed, and Ed deliberately walked at the end. He saw Taswid with a worried look on his face, and then closed the door.
"Ed, I need this painting." Buck suddenly leaned over and whispered.
"Friendly reminder: This thing is worth 7,000 pounds. My weekly salary is 8 pounds plus 2 pounds allowance. To buy this thing, I have to work for 14 years in the Bureau of Special Investigation, not to mention that Mr. Taswide may not be willing to sell it. .”
"Whatever way you want to steal it."
"That's even worse. My boss is an expert on crime. My colleagues can smell my traces five kilometers away. The collection worth 7,000 pounds is enough for me to choose more than ten ways to die at the same time..."
Ed shook his head and sighed, and asked suspiciously:
"Are you sure this painting is really the work of Victor Quinto?"
"I'm not sure, but it's not as boring and empty as the rest of the crap in this building."
"Miss Charlotte..." Ed wanted to hear her opinion.
"Um?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know..." Charlotte's reaction was hesitant. "It gives me a strange feeling, as if..."
"...reassuring."
