Chapter 117: Colors That Refuse to Fade
Colors That Refuse to Fade
Mike Valquin smiled.
"Sis."
"I brought him."
Then he turned around.
Without another word—
He walked out.
The door closed behind him.
Leaving Julian alone with Gwen.
The soft click of the door locking echoed through the quiet suite.
For a brief moment, Julian just stood there.
Then realization struck him like a slap.
His shoulders stiffened.
He muttered under his breath.
"...Damn."
He rubbed his forehead slowly.
"Damn, I let my guard down."
Julian hadn’t expected Mike to trick him like this.
He had thought the guy wanted to discuss business matters or the Chamber of Commerce meeting.
Instead—
He had been delivered straight into a private meeting.
With Gwen Valquin.
Julian sighed quietly and walked further into the room.
Across from him, Gwen had already noticed his reaction.
She smiled faintly.
A soft, elegant smile.
The kind that made people forget their surroundings.
Seeing that smile—
A memory surfaced in Julian’s mind.
One from over ten years ago.
A very awkward memory.
Back then they had still been children.
He had fallen asleep during an afternoon visit to the Valquin residence.
And somehow—
He had woken up holding someone.
A young Gwen.
Both of them tangled awkwardly under a blanket after a childish nap.
She had woken up first.
Her face turning red instantly.
Then—
SLAP.
That small palm had struck his face without hesitation.
Julian still remembered the sting.
And her furious expression.
That memory was impossible to forget.
Back in the present—
Gwen calmly placed her paintbrush down.
She stood gracefully and walked toward the sofa.
Her movements were elegant.
Her long blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight.
Today she wore a fitted white blouse and a short black skirt.
The fabric hugged her slender waist.
Black stockings wrapped around her long legs, the silk catching the light with every step.
Her curves were subtle but captivating.
Her D-cup chest gently lifted the soft fabric of her blouse.
When she sat down, she crossed her legs naturally.
The stockings stretched slightly over her thighs.
She looked at Julian calmly.
"Come."
"Have a seat."
Julian hesitated for a second.
Then nodded stiffly.
"...Okay."
He walked over and sat across from her.
His back straight.
His movements slightly awkward.
Gwen noticed immediately.
Her lips curved faintly.
"Want some tea?" she asked.
"If you do, I’ll brew it for you."
"Water is fine."
Julian waved his hand and casually opened a bottle of mineral water from the table.
But Gwen didn’t look away.
She kept staring at him.
Her blue eyes calm.
Observant.
Curious.
Julian eventually noticed.
"Why are you staring at me?"
He frowned slightly.
Being stared at like this made him uncomfortable.
Mostly because Gwen had never treated him kindly before.
Ever since the incident years ago—
Her attitude toward him had been cold.
Distant.
But recently...
Something had changed.
She had suddenly added him on Hello Messenger.
And they had awkwardly exchanged messages a few times.
Short conversations.
Strange conversations.
Nothing like their childhood.
Gwen smiled softly.
"Nothing."
She leaned slightly forward and picked up another bottle of water.
Then she walked toward him.
"Can you open one for me?"
Her voice carried a playful tone.
Julian frowned slightly.
Something about her behavior felt strange today.
Inside his mind—
(It’s not like you can’t open it yourself.)
(If you got mad, you could probably twist my head off.)
Gwen nearly laughed out loud hearing his thoughts.
That childhood slap had clearly left a psychological shadow on him.
She handed him the bottle.
Julian twisted the cap open and passed it back.
Gwen took a sip.
Then she looked at him seriously.
"Today, I called you over to apologize."
Julian blinked.
Gwen continued softly.
"I misunderstood you about that incident."
"I didn’t know Mike tricked you."
Her voice carried genuine sincerity.
Thinking about that memory still embarrassed her slightly.
She had never let any man see her like that before.
Julian immediately waved his hand.
"What incident?"
"I’ve forgotten about it."
He deliberately acted clueless.
Gwen lightly bit her lip.
"...Forget it then."
For a moment the room became quiet.
Julian glanced around the room.
His eyes eventually landed on the easel beside the window.
The painting displayed there was a white crane standing beside a quiet lake, its wings half-spread as golden sunlight reflected on the water.
The brushwork was elegant.
The colors delicate.
It looked almost alive.
"Do you still paint?" Gwen asked softly.
Julian walked over and studied the painting.
He shook his head.
"Haven’t painted in a long time."
He shrugged casually.
"When you used to come over, the three of us often painted together."
Gwen’s voice softened with nostalgia.
Her gaze drifted slightly.
Back then—
School had never been easy for her.
Her identity as the eldest daughter of the Valquin household made things complicated.
Her classmates flattered her openly.
But secretly avoided her.
She didn’t like pretending.
So she withdrew.
Slowly becoming lonely.
The only people who treated her normally were Mike—
And Julian.
The three of them would sit together quietly painting.
No politics.
No masks.
Just colors and silence.
Julian looked at the painting again and smiled faintly.
"You’ve gotten much better."
"The crane looks real."
Gwen’s eyes warmed slightly.
"I have to thank you for that."
Julian looked confused.
"Do you remember the painting you helped me finish?"
Gwen asked gently.
Her gaze softened.
Back then—
She had been deeply depressed.
She only painted in dark colors.
Cold colors.
Black cranes.
Gray skies.
One day she had left halfway through a painting.
When she returned—
The dark sky had been replaced by warm sunlight.
The black crane had been given soft white feathers.
And the lake behind it shimmered with color.
She knew immediately who had done it.
It couldn’t have been Mike.
Only Julian painted like that.
That burst of color had changed something inside her.
Slowly—
She began stepping out of the darkness.
Julian scratched his head awkwardly.
"Oh... that time."
"I remember."
He smiled sheepishly.