Chapter 4

Valerian gazed at Juliette with tenderness as she chattered on with introductions, his eyes brimming with affection.

Quinn watched as he patted her head, praising her courage and knowledge, saying it was no wonder she was the one he liked. She saw him lean down to soothe Juliette’s pout, gently promising to accompany her in the future. She saw him draw a small notebook from his pocket, carefully jotting down even her unreasonable requests.

Her feet felt nailed to the floor.

The instant Quinn recognized that familiar notebook, her blood turned ice cold.

She remembered when Valerian had pursued her, bringing her to an art exhibition. She had widened her eyes in surprise when he suddenly took out a pen and paper. With a tilted smile, he had said, “The more I understand your preferences, the faster I can win you over.”

Back then, her heart had melted completely.

But now, in that same notebook, he was recording for another woman.

From a distance, Valerian lifted his head and inadvertently caught sight of Quinn’s tear-filled eyes.

“Baby, why are you crying? Did I upset you again?” He hastily reached out, brushing away the tears at the corner of her eyes.

“It’s nothing, I just saw a very moving piece,” Quinn replied softly.

“You’re still so sentimental, my little crybaby.” Valerian bent closer, lightly brushing the tip of her nose.

Quinn frowned and turned away, refusing his touch.

“Mrs. Montero, I never imagined my work could move you. What an honor,” Juliette said with a faint, mocking laugh.

Quinn stood frozen, her gaze fixed blankly on Valerian.

“Baby, I promised I wouldn’t contact her again, but I didn’t know this was her exhibition when I brought you here.” Valerian raised his hand quickly, as though swearing an oath. “She and I only met by chance. Believe me.”

Quinn no longer wished to stay a moment longer and turned to leave.

“Baby, since we’re already here, let’s finish looking before we go.” Valerian caught her arm, unwilling to let her go.

For the rest of the exhibition, Juliette took the role of guide, her voice smooth, her steps deliberate. She lingered unusually long before a photograph of a lone back view.

“They say if you see the Golden Mountain at sunrise, you’ll have good luck for a whole year.” Juliette looked at Valerian, her tone soft. “But I think meeting someone to watch that sunrise with me is my true good luck.”

In the photo, a tall man stood with his arm draped around Juliette, his head tilted slightly toward her.

It was only a back view.

Yet Quinn knew with absolute certainty that man was Valerian.

Her mind flashed back to the moment he had smiled and told her that since he had seen the Golden Mountain sunrise, she would surely be blessed with good fortune.

‘Valerian, back then, who were you truly thinking of?’

Her palm tightened. She turned her head and saw Valerian staring at the photo in a daze, his eyes dark and distant, his hand clenched so tightly he seemed not to notice.

Her heart ached as though pierced by countless thorns.

Quinn curved her lips into a self-mocking smile and quietly pulled her hand away.

She had only walked a few steps when the surging crowd struck her down.

“Fire! Fire!”

The panicked crowd surged toward the exit, trampling marks deep into her hands and back.

One photo after another slipped before her eyes, the crackling of flames ringing in her ears.

Her breaths grew heavier, her vision cloudier.

Quinn clearly heard the pillar beside her splintering.

Inside, a single thread of unwillingness twisted tight, unwilling to die here, unwilling that she had not yet become a field reporter.

Just as the pillar came crashing down, “Quinn!”

In the final moment, before the world dissolved frame by frame into darkness, she saw Valerian hurl himself over her.