Chapter 47: The Devil In The Painting

Chapter 47: The Devil In The Painting

Seven Sins System Chapter 47. The Devil In The Painting Ñøv€lRapture marked the initial hosting of this chapter on Ñôv€lß¡n.

Even though I knew it was a high-priced painting, what shocked me was the picture in it.

A man sat on a stone throne and lifted one of his legs nonchalantly. A demon to be precise since I could see his purplish horns and his eyes that glinted in red from behind his mask.

He only wore black trousers, showing his packed torso and abs. A dense red flame was in his palm. But what made me sure the demon in the picture was me, or me when I was leading the war 300 years ago to be precise, was the six tentacles on his back. It even had all the details like the red eyes and the teeth.

Even though the demon didn't have a real crown, I always wore a mask when I led the war in the mortal world. So no one recognized my face.

I quickly glanced at the lower right corner of the painting to find out who the painter was and found Red's name there.

'Oh, I just found out she has such talent. I should have treated her better.' There was regret in my heart since I only treated Red as my fighting tool in the past.

"Take a seat, Dr. Allen," Katrina repeated. It made me turn to her.

As soon as she saw me, she was stunned. I bet it was because she caught the similarities between me and the painting. Luckily, the mask covered my face well. At least she couldn't accuse me and the devil in the painting was the same person.

I walked to her and sat in front of her.

"Sorry, I got distracted by the painting," I flashed my innocent smile and put my report on her desk.

Yet she didn't take my report nor took her eyes off me. "You look similar to the devil in the painting. I thought he walked out of his throne and became you," she said as soon as she got her voice out. Her shock was evident in the tone of her voice.

"My dad is a human, so he died a long time ago," she replied.

"I see... I hope I can meet her one day. I mean---" I turned to the painting again. "Look at that painting. It's so beautiful." I truly loved that painting since it captured my power and strength perfectly. She should have given me one before we parted 300 years ago.

'Okay, I should stop being narcissistic like that asshole 'Pride',' I dispersed my thoughts quickly.

"She must have admired the man in the painting," I continued. But then I realized her displeasure since I called myself wrongly. "I mean the devil," I corrected my words.

"Not only admire. That painting is a story about unrequited love." She turned to the painting. Her gaze turned melancholic.

"She loved him. But he didn't. He only thought about war, massacre, endless battle, and his victory. He was so powerful and majestic, yet he sat alone on his throne. His expression didn't show he was happy with it all ."

Then she returned her gaze to me.

"His heart was hollow. All he felt was emptiness. My mom tried to fill it, but she couldn't," she continued.

Her words slapped me.

'I'm empty? Hollows?' I didn't understand where that conclusion came from. I tried to track back what happened 300 years ago, but what I remembered were the war and the agreement.

"That's a good assumption. Maybe the painter was so heartbroken when she drew it that she unintentionally expressed her feelings in the painting," I reasoned.

"She was heartbroken. But my mom said that the devil always made that face whenever he sat on the throne as if he had lost something important in his life."

Her explanation stunned me.