Chapter 5: Irene in the Painting

Yu Sheng felt that ever since that frog had reached into his chest and pulled out his heart, his heart had grown significantly broader.

For instance, at this moment, he had just woken up from a bizarre dream that felt wrong in every conceivable way, unlocked a mysterious, locked room, and discovered a talking oil painting. Even though it was clear that some sort of sinister entity was lurking within that painting, he remained remarkably calm.

He even took a step forward, removed the oil painting from the wall, and held it up to inspect it closely.

The frame had a certain weight to it, its texture suggesting it was quite valuable. Upon closer observation, he noticed that the black, lacquer-like surface of the frame was covered in intricate and exquisite patterns. The lines seemed to be a form of continuous script, yet they cleverly intertwined and twisted into vine-like structures, ultimately merging seamlessly with the patterns at the edge of the canvas.

Yu Sheng knew nothing about painting or art, but he felt this thing must be worth a fortune.

The creature hiding deep within the oil painting still refused to show itself, though a hem of a skirt in the corner of the image pulled back just a fraction more.

Yu Sheng tried to tilt his gaze to peer into the painting, but he saw nothing.

"I know you're in there," he said to the painting, shaking the heavy frame. "Hiding now is just lying to yourself."

A slight rustling sound came from the corner of the image, but there was no reply.

Yu Sheng placed the frame on the ground and, while squatting down, fished a lighter out of his pocket.

He flicked it on, held the flame close to the frame, and said with a blank expression, "I’ll count to three. If you don't come out, I'm going to set this thing on fire."

Two or three seconds later, a light, childish voice drifted from the oil painting: "...A mere mortal flame. That sort of thing is useless against a supernatural entity."

But Yu Sheng was certain he could detect a hint of nervousness in that voice.

So, he touched the flame directly to a corner of the frame. "Oh, then let me test that—"

A scream rang out almost simultaneously with his action: "Don't! Are you serious?!"

Yu Sheng extinguished the lighter instantly. Immediately after, he saw a figure scramble out from the edge of the painting, which looked like thorny vines.

It was a young girl dressed in an elaborate, gorgeous black Gothic dress, wearing a hairclip adorned with white lace. Her hair was jet-black, her skin as white as snow, and she was adorable, yet she had a pair of heterochromatic, scarlet eyes. Those eyes were wide open now, staring straight at Yu Sheng, as if verifying whether the human outside the frame would truly burn it.

Yu Sheng admitted he had been startled when the girl suddenly jumped into the center of the frame.

Although the girl in the painting didn't look frightening upon closer inspection—she was actually quite beautiful—in such a gloomy, dim setting, that sudden appearance would have startled anyone. Not to mention, the girl had eyes that looked like they were soaked in blood. She then leaned forward, pressing her face completely against the canvas, her eyes nearly filling the entire frame, which looked incredibly eerie.

"Don't light the fire," the girl's voice came from the painting. "This is the only place I have to live."

"Back up a little," Yu Sheng said, subconsciously keeping his distance from the painting. For some reason, he felt that her scarlet eyes were exceptionally sinister. That shade of red seemed to seep into his memories and thoughts as he stared, making it harder to erase from his mind the longer he looked. Yet, to maintain the upper hand in their conversation, he forced himself not to look away. "I can refrain from lighting the fire."

"Oh." The girl in the painting was surprisingly easy to negotiate with. She didn't seem to notice Yu Sheng’s momentary abnormality; she nodded, retreated to the center of the frame, and sat down on a chair covered in thick red velvet. She then bent over, grabbed a plush teddy bear that she had dropped on the floor, held it in her arms, and sat there staring straight at Yu Sheng’s movements.

A Gothic girl holding a teddy bear on a red velvet chair—in a daze, Yu Sheng felt as if he had seen the "normal" image of this oil painting.

But then, he frowned slightly, discovering something