The painting sat propped on a drying rack behind them, still catching the glow of the afternoon sun. The pop-up gallery had started to thin out, but the crowd around Ryunosuke's easel hadn't faded completely.
William stepped back and lifted his phone, snapping a picture. "I mean… you've got talent, but this feels like something else, dude."
Ryunosuke didn't speak.
He was staring again—like he was seeing her for the first time, yet had known her forever.
William took another photo, this time zooming in slightly on her face. "She doesn't look real. Like, at all. Her eyes? They're not even… I don't know. They feel like they're looking at you. Through the screen."
Ryunosuke lifted his own phone, quietly taking the same shot. He hadn't meant to draw her again. Hadn't even thought about her—until she came pouring out of his hand like ink chasing memory.
Lilith.
The name still rang in his ears like it had weight. Like it had always been there, waiting.
William nudged him. "Okay, seriously, who is she?"
Ryunosuke hesitated, then muttered, "I'm… not sure."
William tilted his head. "Huh?"
"I've only seen her once. Kind of."
William looked between him and the canvas, then back again. "Well… if you ever see her again, tell her she's got some serious supernatural charisma. That painting feels like a dream I forgot I had."
Ryunosuke said nothing.
But the longer he looked at it, the more uneasy he felt.
Later That Evening
The apartment was quiet again by nightfall.
Ryunosuke returned with William, barely said a word, and disappeared into his room with a mumbled "night." The door clicked softly behind him.
Emily sat at the table, eyes fixed on her phone—the photo William had sent of the painting.
Lucas was next to her, scrolling through a reverse image search of Lilith's blurry face from Hollywood. No results. No tags. No clues.
"She's too pretty to be this anonymous," Lucas said, staring. "It's kind of freaking me out."
Emily zoomed in again on the eyes. "I've seen a lot of confident women. This isn't that. This is something else. Like she's not… pretending to be calm. She is. Always."
William plopped into the chair across from them. "She looks like she doesn't belong here. Not in a 'tourist' way. In a 'wrong century, wrong planet' kind of way."
Emily didn't look up. "She's not on social media. No missing person reports. No rumors. Nothing. It's like she doesn't exist outside of Ryu's art."
Lucas nodded slowly. "But now we've seen her. We saw her in real life. And now she's showing up in his work."
William frowned. "So what is she, then? A ghost? A hallucination? Some girl with an insane sense of timing?"
The three sat in silence, the air heavy with questions none of them could ask Ryunosuke—not yet.
Emily stared at the photo a moment longer.
The painting didn't feel like a warning.
It felt like a countdown.
And they still didn't know what it was counting down to.
The room was silent—heavy, almost reverent.
Then Lucas leaned back in his chair, let out a long, theatrical sigh, and said:
"So, what I'm hearing is… our best friend might be in love with a sexy ghost from a cursed painting. Which, honestly? Kinda iconic."
William snorted, nearly choking on his bottled tea.
Emily groaned. "Lucas—"
"I'm just saying," he continued, hands up in surrender, "if she floats next time we see her, I'm out. No exorcisms. No creepy riddles. I've seen this movie."
William wiped his mouth, still laughing. "If anyone's getting haunted here, it's you. You opened his sketchbook."
"I'll take a mildly possessed toothbrush over being left in the dark," Lucas said, then raised his phone like a toast. "To art, ghosts, and bad decisions."
Emily couldn't help it—she laughed, too. Just for a second.
The heaviness returned as quickly as it left, but for a brief moment, the apartment felt human again.
Even if none of them could shake the feeling that something was watching… waiting.