Art of Deceit

III

It was a painting of a girl playing the harp for a man in all red. Her shadow was somewhat distorted, almost dripping whilst his seemed to shroud her in her entirety.

Something about it made me feel uneasy. I open up the catalog, hoping to find a meaning behind this piece.

The shadow self is ones darker side.
Love isn't about destroying this dark side, it's about taking it as your own.

And that was it. It was the shortest description, compared to every other artwork. My eyes remained glued to the Art of Deceit as the thought provoking sentences circled my mind.

"Who painted you?" I took a step closer, but before I could catch the artist's name, Mona grabs my attention.

"Here," she drops a bunch of papers in my hands. "These are the possible questions that could be thrown your way, so you have to start preparing."

"Like right now?" My brows furrow.

"Yes, there's a reason why I got a place so close to the gallery. Now go!"

I drop everything on the table, flopping onto the seat a moment later as I stared at the stack of papers. "You can do this. It's just 564 questions." I sighed. "You can do this." I try telling myself even though I barely believed it.

"So, first." I flipped through the pages and realised most of them were on the Art of Deceit which makes sense since it had a vague description.

I started off by catching little details of the painting, like a tiny arrow in the girl's heart which tainted her with a black ink. After getting down the little details, I began my research, landing on the same website I came across. That demented face scattered across the page. "You're okay." I tell myself, not wanting to be distracted.

The last time, I couldn't bring myself to read the full article, but this time I would have to. "Wait a second." I came across the sculpture by Salvatore Albano that I stumbled upon in the art museum with Taehyung months back. "The fallen angels," I read out the name of the sculpture. "A great depiction of the shadow self." I noticed myself getting lost in the article, going deeper and deeper into the search until something stood out.

"Shadow selfs are not present in an angel, but the shadow self of a fallen angel overpowers anyone else's." I read it aloud, and everything starts clicking as I understood the Art of Deceit.

The little arrow symbolised the shot of love, like cupid, and the man in red was the fallen angel of love. "But why would he be fallen?" I question, trying to prepare myself for the questions that could be thrown at me.

I went deeper into the digging, finding everything that I needed and jotted it down. "Cupid was meant to give love but was never meant for love."

"So, in essence, the artist was trying to portray that love is not for everyone. In this instance, even the angel of love is not capable of love himself, thus tainting the love that was given by the girl which is symbolised by the harp. The harp is said to be an ancient artistic symbol of love." I say, captivating everyone with each word.

"It all boils down to the fact that a one-sided love corrupts love. No matter how pure which is clearly symbolised by her white gown getting tainted by his touch." I glance back at the painting as my mouth continued to spurt out the words I had managed to memorise.

My eyes catches sight of the artist's name and I realised I had not found out who he or she was yet. I subtly step closer towards it whilst speaking and finally it was visible to my eyes.

The Boy.

Just when I thought everything was finally calming down, a storm brews up within me as those two simple words stirred up memories. It can't be. I tell myself it's just a coincidence, that my thought process was absurd. Instinctively, I reach into my pocket, feeling the last thing he left me with. The fabric.

For some reason, I had been bringing it around with me. That sense of security and familiarity that came along with it was enough to get me to be at peace but this time, it sent nerves surging through my body.

As I snapped myself back to reality, I noticed how I was standing alone. The art critics had left and I couldn't remember when I had finished speaking.

My gaze floated back to the artwork, my finger toying with the fabric as I scanned the art. I felt like I had barely started to understand the profound meaning behind it. As my mind tried coming up with more theories behind the painting, footsteps start to echo from behind me.

I turn around, thinking it would be Mona but as soon as my eyes landed on the figure, my expression dropped. I balled up the fabric as my fingers pressed itself into a fist.

"Hey," the baritone of his voice reverberates through me, sending goosebumps prickling all over me. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

I don't say a word, staring at the brunette that stood before me. He carries the silence as he fiddles with his tie, looking at me as though waiting for a response.

"Y-you're here." I stumble over my words. "Why- why are you here, Taehyung?"

. . .
-unedited

A/N: I'm so so so unsatisfied with this chapter. I hope you guys bear with me as I slowly edit this chapter and the following chapters. I've been really busy but I also wanted to update :( I'm sorry if it seems messy ah, I'll do better in the next chapter.