The evening air inside the art gallery was crisp with wealth and whispers. Crystal chandeliers glistened above, casting soft light over the marble floor. Abstract sculptures, oil portraits, and experimental canvases adorned the spacious hall, each piece guarded by velvet ropes and sharp-eyed staff. Delicate piano music played in the background, barely masking the rustle of designer fabrics and clinking glasses.
The grand art show buzzed with elegance and whispers of admiration. Rian entered with his assistant and the vice chairman of the festival at his side. As they walked past the various artworks, the vice chairman eagerly spoke about each piece, his voice full of pride.
"Mr. Rian, it's an honor. Let me show you our finest piece of the evening," the vice chairman said, leading him confidently past admiring guests leading him to the elevator as it took them to the third floor.
When they came out of the elevator the vice chairman lead him and his assistant pass guest to a quiet corner.
Rian's steps slowed. His gaze locked onto a familiar silhouette—a woman standing alone before the most prized painting, cigarette hung lazily between her fingers as she exhaled a curl of smoke.
The vice chairman followed his gaze and frowned nose wrinkled in distaste. "Sir, I'll ask her to move. She's—"
"Don't," Rian said, already stepping forward.
Mira turned around, sensing the presence behind her. Without a second thought, she exhaled a stream of smoke directly into Rian's face. Her voice was amused, sharp.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Rian. If you weren't so quick to treat me like vermin yesterday, I'd have thought you were following me."
Rian studied her silently—her outfit a crisp white shirt tucked into a high-waisted black skirt that hugged her curves with grace. A black ribbon tied neatly at her neck. Chic. Elegant. Bold.and the white channel bag added a hint of luxury
"I didn't take you for someone who appreciates art," he murmured.
Mira gave a low laugh, amused and dangerous. "Oh? What did you take me for—a woman who only appreciates clubs, drama, and men with money?"
The vice chairman stepped forward, already irritated. "Ma'am, this is a prestigious event. We do not allow smoking, and guests are expected to conduct themselves with decorum. Perhaps you'd be more… comfortable on the first floor."
"And here I thought this is art show it to look at painting and buy some with this behavior you going to be driving away potential buyers don't let the look deceive you so am Is people allowed to look at the painting "
."Yes, but—"
"I want this one," she said
"You… want to buy it?" the vice chairman blinked, stunned.
"Yes. I want it," she replied, not bothering to look at him. "Did I stutter?"
The chairman opened his mouth, ready to snap, but froze as she held out a black card
He glanced at Rian, who gave a lazy wave of approval. The chairman took the card, clearly swallowing his pride.
Mira smirked. "Didn't know you needed his permission to do your job. It seems Mr Rian is a tyrant who people need permission to sell their business.
It is what you call power miss ....Rian stop as he didn't know her name.
Mira chuckled mockingly
Rian took the cigarette from her fingers and passed it to his assistant, who silently disposed of it."smoking is bad"
Mira gave him a smirk before pulling out another cigarette and lighting it again, unfazed.
She turned on her heel, her hair brushing his shoulder with a calculated flick.
"I have places to be, Mr. Rian," she said with a smirk as she walked toward the elevator. "Try not to miss me too much."
The elevator doors closed behind her, and Rian stood in silence for a beat—then chuckled softly to himself.
---
Scene: Café Near Vale Corporation – The Game Begins
The taxi pulled up smoothly in front of the Vale Corporation building, its sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. Mira stepped out, tossing a polite smile at the driver before heading toward a cozy café just across the street.
She entered with casual elegance, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she chose a table by the window—Table 6. She ordered a strawberry milkshake and crossed her legs with practiced grace, eyes flickering over the company's main entrance through the glass.
A few minutes later, Rian walked in.
His expression shifted instantly when he spotted her. He frowned. Mira waved at him with a smirk, her fingers fluttering mockingly like she'd been expecting him all along.
He looked down at his phone.
"Table 6. Slim woman in white."
Rian's frown deepened.
He approached reluctantly and sat across from her, scanning her with the same caution he might use on an unpredictable stock report.
"I hope this isn't a prank," he said, voice low, eyes sharp.
"You wound me, Rian," Mira said sweetly, resting her chin on her hand. "Why would I prank you?"
She leaned forward and fixed his collar with practiced ease. Rian immediately pushed her hand away and sat upright, glaring.
His thoughts swirled.
She was different again. At the club, she was all temptation. At the art show, she had looked at him like he was beneath her. Now she sat across from him like an old friend catching up.
"If you keep thinking so hard," she teased, sipping her milkshake, "you'll get gray hairs."
Rian didn't smile.
"Anyway," Mira continued with a bright tone, pulling out a sleek envelope. "Let's talk business."
She slid the contract across the table.
Rian eyed her, then opened the document. His brows slowly rose as he flipped through the pages. His expression softened—just slightly.
"This is... better than I expected," he admitted, adjusting his tie. "It seems there are more sides to you than I assumed."
Mira chuckled, then pulled something from her bag—a medium-sized, wrapped canvas.
She unwrapped it carefully and slid it across the table.
"I got this for you."
Rian stiffened. "You're giving me the painting?"
"Yes." Mira's tone was nonchalant. "If I keep it, it'll just be paper to me."
"I don't accept expensive gifts. Especially not from someone who doesn't understand the value of what she's giving away," Rian said sharply, clearly annoyed.
Mira only smiled.
"It's "Woman Beneath the Birch" by Emiko Tanaka," she began, tracing the frame with one finger. "She painted only 19 works before she disappeared. This was the seventeenth—painted two months after she lost her husband in a scandal. The woman in the birch trees? That's her. And look—"
Mira pointed to the faint scratchwork in the corner.
"She always carved a message into her seventeens. This one says 'Breathless but alive.' The birch trees represent rebirth, survival. She painted it when she finally decided not to drown in grief. That blue haze in the corner? That's her son's blanket, hidden in the background."
Rian blinked, slightly stunned.
"I know enough," Mira said lightly, leaning back. "But understanding it doesn't mean I'll suddenly become sentimental. I just like practical things."
Then, without warning, she leaned in.
"And I bought it," she whispered near his ear, "because I wanted to understand you."
Her fingers trailed through his hair as she adjusted his part gently.
"I'm here for business," Rian said flatly, trying to keep control.
"And I'm here for both business..." Mira tugged him slightly by the tie, her lips brushing his ear, "...and you."
Rian gulped involuntarily. A heat bloomed on his neck, especially as his eyes fell to her exposed collarbone and the elegant arch of her neck.
Before he could react further, Mira stood up.
"I'll be in touch," she said with a soft chuckle, flicking her hair with the precision of a queen. She catwalked out of the café without a glance back, her heels echoing like punctuation marks on a declaration of war.
Outside, she hailed another taxi.
Sliding in, she smirked and pulled out her phone. The screen flickered to life, showing a small audio wave… recording live.
The tiny bug she had hidden beneath Rian's hair was already working perfectly.
Even if he washed his hair a dozen times, it wouldn't fall off.
Now, she could hear everything.
---