The sharp click of heels echoed down the hallway.
The brightly lit corridor was decorated with numerous paintings, each one depicting a famous moment in history.
Victorious battles, historic treaties, the birth of kingdoms, and the fall of empires.
At first glance, each canvas celebrated a moment history had deemed worthy to be remembered.
But as the navy-haired beauty continued down the hall, the paintings became even more…personal.
One of them depicted a blonde princess grinning mischievously as she seemingly crept up behind a sleeping, silver beauty.
The other had a mature beauty dressed in red peacefully drinking from her cup with an obsidian maid by her side while a pink songstress was captured mid-performance.
There were many more paintings like this, each one depicting different sets of people in different moments.
But one thing was abundantly clear.
They were all a family.
It was like walking inside a person’s mind, exploring all of their precious memories.
Finally, as she neared the end of the corridor, there was one more painting.
In this, a youthful green traveler held hands with a crimson-robed figure in front of a breathtaking mountain landscape.
The figure was clearly a man, but none of his features were clearly distinct. It was as if the painter was portraying someone who kept changing their face in the middle of the session.
Her gaze lingered a little longer on that specific painting.
Then, she let out a soft, amused breath.
“...I wonder if he lives up to her stories…” she mumbled.
A soft click of a door opening resounded before her, a young woman walking out of the room.
“Welcome back, Madam,” she politely bowed. “She’s expecting you inside.”
Her lips curled up in a teasing smile. “Madam? Maeve, dear, since when have I been demoted from Mom?”
The dark-haired woman stiffened.
Maeve desperately tried to keep a straight face, but her flushing cheeks worked against her favor.
“...Madam, we’ve talked about this. I’m just a secretary in this building.”
She feigned wiping her tears. “How cruel. So your job is more important than welcoming your mother after five years apart?”
“W-Wha—I didn’t say that!”
“Where’s my hug then?” The woman immediately flipped her mood, spreading her hands.
Maeve began to part her lips, then closed them again. Her eyes contained traces of hesitation, but also severe longing.
In the next moment, she rushed forward, tackling her mother into a hug.
“...I missed you.”
A warm smile graced her face, her hands caressing her hair.
“I missed you too. I’m looking forward to the surprise party back at home.”
Her daughter recoiled back. “H-How did you know about that?!”
“Oh? So you did prepare a party for me? How kind of you.”
“...”
Her silence said it all.
She couldn’t suppress a smile. “Looks like you still have a long way to go to surpass us.”
Maeve pouted, fully letting go of her serious persona.
“It won’t be like this for long. I’ll leave you in the dust in no time!”
Her determination was commendable.
The mother inside her was so proud of her at that moment.
But the entrepreneur in her…pitied her.
She would need hundreds of years to even come close.
That wasn’t even a boast. It was just the harsh reality.
The woman hugged her daughter tighter, the thoughts never leaving her lips.
“...Go back to your job now, dear. You shouldn’t be slacking off, right?”
“Ah, right!”
Maeve quickly separated herself from the woman, straightening up her suit.
She coughed. “Welcome back, Madam. She’s expecting you inside.”
Her shoulders shook with a silent laughter.
“...I didn’t mean start over, but good enough, I suppose.”
Then, she tidied up her own attire, a navy suit that matched her hair.
With her appearance taken care of, she opened the door to her office.
The paintings followed her inside.
No, that wasn’t accurate. The room itself looked like the source of the stream of paintings.
Instead of an owner of a company, guests would assume that it was the room of a painter that loved to travel.
A few more minutes here, and they would know that the painter had a side hobby of predicting the stock market and creating trade routes from thin air.
The woman then saw the painter sitting behind a mahogany desk.
Her flowing green-hair framed her youthful face. Her green eyes were focused on the book before her, the sound of a pen scratching the pages ever present.
The navy beauty closed the door behind her. “...Are you adding a new entry to your journal?”
She didn’t raise her head, her hands never stopped moving.
“Yes. I’m adding your touching reunion with your daughter.”
Her eyebrows twitched.
“...Okay, using our CCTVs is just pure stalker behavour.”
An eye focused on the perplexed woman.
“I don’t save the footage though?”
“But you paint them. That’s arguably worse.”
She then crossed her arms below her mature breasts.
“Speaking of reunion, where’s my welcome back?”
“Hm?” her hand stopped. “You’re only gone for five years, though?”
Her mouth immediately closed after opening it.
Right.
Her daughter made her forget who, or rather, what, they were.
A tired breath escaped her lips as the woman in front of her returned to add more to her journal.
“Anyways, why did you call me here?”
The woman approached the desk. “I was so close to acquiring Singapore, you know?”
A few more conversations with the right people, and the whole country was virtually theirs.
“Oh, right.” The woman closed her journal.
She then rested her head on her chin, a soft smile on her face.
“I think my husband is awake.”
Her eyes widened.
She mentally rearranged six meetings, postponed a merger, delegated three acquisitions, and stored Singapore at the back of her mind.
“...Is it because of Milan?”
The authorities and news outlets blamed foreign insurgencies, but she knew better.
Ever since joining their family, her eye for the supernatural became even sharper.
The green-haired woman faintly nodded.
“That was most likely Bea.”
Then she giggled, her expression the lightest it had been all night. “She’s both the most restrained and unrestrained person I’ve ever known.”
Her smile was so infectious that she caught it as well.
“...I suppose if Beatrice is making a move, it’s not unreasonable to think that he’s also already out there.”
“Should I send a team to the Caspian Sea, Althea?”
She looked at the friend she had known for most of her life.
Althea shook her head.
“I already did. The cave had collapsed, so I suspect they’re staying in Bea’s room right now.”
Her eyebrows raised. “...You don’t know where her room is?”
Althea opened her hands in quiet resignation.
“I told you I’m not a stalker. I always give my family their privacy to do their own thing.”
She then looked at her bookshelf, the hardcovers worned out. “I don’t even know where Anna is.”
The woman let out a silent laugh at the mention of the name.
“...Anna is not a good example. She probably haven’t left her room in decades.”
“But I understand your point.” She leaned down, resting her hands on the desk.
“So?” The woman met her green eyes with her blue. “What do you want me to do then?”
Instead of answering her, Althea rose from her seat.
With her hands clasped behind her back, she began walking towards the wall.
“I already have people scouring the world for traces of my family, but there’s one place that’s proven to be difficult to access.”
She stopped near a painting, her body covering the canvas.
The woman’s lips curled. Her heart already beating in excitement.
“I’ve heard rumors of a blonde foreign woman terrorizing the Caribbean Islands by sneaking in copious amounts of fish in the citizens’ bedrooms.”
Althea then turned around, the painting fully exposed.
Unlike most of the paintings in the room, there was only one figure that was portrayed.
Turbulent waves crashing against an elegant, yet still dangerous warship. At the helm, a woman was seen with a ferocious smile, fully in her element.
A ferocious smile that the navy-haired beauty shared.
“Grace,” Althea called her name. “I need you to go back to the sea.”