The Hall of Preserved Things

“So what if Lord Fren’s masterpiece tried seducing you next, Lord Nefer?”

“Hah, unbelievable.”

Nefer proudly pointed at himself with his thumb.

“I’ll tell you right now, if Vanessa tried seducing me, I’d fall for it immediately.”

“You say that like it’s something to brag about.”

Marin scoffed and flicked his hair aside with attitude.

“See? In the end you’re just like the rest of us.”

Nefer’s playful smile stiffened for a split second.

“…Really? That’s how you see me?”

“Of course!”

Nefer made a show of lightly pushing Marin’s shoulder.

“You’re under a huge misunderstanding. I’m nothing like you all.”

“No, you absolutely are.”

“Hmph. I’m offended.”

Acting all sulky, Nefer passed Marin and walked toward the enormous tank that took up half the room.

The tank connected directly to the sea, filled with fish of all shapes and colors gliding through the water.

Nefer watched them for a moment, then nonchalantly stripped off his clothes and dove in with a splash.

Marin nearly screamed.

“Why do you keep doing that so naturally?! Go check the inventory and—ah! Right!”

He quickly pulled out a bluish document from his folder and set it afloat on the water’s surface.

Nefer casually swam over, tail swaying gracefully, and plucked the perfectly dry paper from the surface.

“That underground storage at the foot of the mountain—it’s a waste to keep it empty forever, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

Marin ignored his dismissive reply and pressed on energetically.

“As you know, grain prices have dropped a lot lately. Why don’t we buy in bulk and store it there?”

At that, Nefer abruptly stopped swimming.

Marin froze at the same time—knowing that reaction was never a good sign.

Nefer climbed out of the tank with a dramatic splash, water cascading down.

Marin instinctively felt danger and tried to step back, but it was already too late.

With his tail still out and flapping like a frantic fish, Nefer burst out:

“Nooo! You always have to keep extra space open! I told you sooo many times!”

The tail just made him look even more like a flailing sea creature.

Marin panicked and rushed to calm him down.

“…Okay! I’m sorry! I was wrong!”

“What will you do when something important happens and we don’t have space?! My father always said this too—why do you refuse to listen?!”

“I get it! Really! I’m sorry! I was being arrogant!”

Nefer froze mid-flail at the genuine apology.

“…Fine then.”

He crawled back into the tank with exaggerated motions.

Marin let out a long, exhausted sigh before diving in after him.

“When you throw tantrums like that… it really feels like the former guildmaster came back from the dead.”

“My father is very much alive, thank you.”

“Oh. Right. I just haven’t seen him in so long it slipped my mind.”

Marin’s own tail appeared—dark blue—and he dove deep below.

Far below, he lightly flicked his bright yellow fin and a swarm of fish gathered around him as if on command.

He snatched the largest one with his mouth and surfaced.

—Crunch, crack.

Nefer silently watched Marin gnaw through the entire fish, bones and all, with teeth sharp as a shark’s.

Marin finished the last bite and licked his lips.

“…Nope. I need to go home for a bit.”

“…Suddenly?”

“I need emotional recovery after witnessing something traumatic.”

And with that, Marin slipped out of the tank and into the sea through the connecting passage.

Floating like a lazy jellyfish, Nefer muttered:

“…No wonder people call us beasts.”

* * *

—Crack.

Dozens of bones were being crushed in front of Vanessa.

Fren stood beside him in the workshop, watching a large magical device grind down the materials inside.

His eyes were full of curiosity.

Vanessa spoke.

“I had no idea animal bones could even be turned into paint.”

“Neither did I.”

The device was pulverizing the bones of a white deer species that lived in the barren wastelands.

Once powdered and mixed with water, the result was said to form a pale, reddish-tinted white pigment.

Vanessa cleared away the remaining bone boxes, hoping the paint would please Fren.

Fren set the attached card on his desk and said:

“To think Hakan sent a gift in return. Other elves would be shocked.”

“Maybe Sir Nektor advised him.”

“I thought so too. That one really isn’t like a normal Lycanthrope. All the ones I’ve met until now were so apathetic.”

After storing the card away, Vanessa approached the magical device.

It still churned steadily—understandably slow due to the unusual material.

But Fren didn’t mind.

“This is perfect timing. We should pick a painting to gift Polia.”

Fren gestured to the many artworks displayed throughout the workshop.

“Vanessa, you choose.”

Vanessa nodded and examined each painting carefully.

But in the end, he couldn’t select any of them.

“I don’t think any of these are right for Master Polia.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you see a lot of potential in him.”

“And you think that because…?”

“Unlike Elder Polyphemos, who only valued golden wool, Master Polia has been working to diversify his production for years. He even succeeded in producing silver wool, according to rumors. Someone with consistent results always catches your interest. So if I’m right, you’ll want to choose one from the storage room.”

Fren’s eyes softened with satisfaction.

The paintings in the workshop could be sold anytime, but the ones in the storage room were different.

Those were works Fren treasured—pieces he refused to sell and only gifted to elves he found promising.

The storage room key was specially crafted by a famous smith solely for Fren.

“Bring the key.”

Vanessa retrieved it from Fren’s room.

Together they descended into the basement.

An ornate door waited at the end.

Fren unlocked it.

—Creak.

As the door opened, the luminous stones in the ceiling began to glow one by one.

They stepped inside.

Paintings lined both walls, the floor polished smooth beneath their feet.

On the right hung Fren’s personal favorites, and on the left, pieces intended as gifts.

“Pick again.”

Vanessa walked slowly, analyzing each painting.

Polia was extremely sensitive about family and finances lately, so those themes were out.

Something comforting would be better.

After some thought, Vanessa stopped in front of a painting of young goats and fairies playing in a grassy meadow.

“I think this one suits Master Polia best. With this—”

But when Vanessa turned, Fren was already on the far side of the room.

Vanessa started toward him—then froze.

His eyes had fallen on a painting on the opposite wall.

Drawn to it, he walked over.

It was Fren’s self-portrait from his military days.

His hair was tied back, shorter than now, his expression devoid of warmth.

His eyes held nothing but dissatisfaction and contempt for the world—so intense the portrait itself felt tense.

And beside it…

A painting of Vanessa the day Fren first met him.

“I barely remember being like that anymore.”

The child in the picture stood in oversized shackles, thin legs trembling.

His posture was crooked from crouching in a cramped cell, his face smeared with dark mud and dust.

But the most striking part was the expression.

Wild, feral, hostile—like an animal ready to attack.

“I really was the most savage one there.”

He’d had no parents from birth.

He hated that.

He hated everything.

The watery gruel served once a day, the cell that offered no comfort, the crying slaves beside him.

So he glared at every visiting customer.

He was beaten often for it—but never stopped.

Vanessa thought:

“That was… the ugliest, dirtiest period of my life.”

Looking at his past self made a quiet sadness settle in him.

“That was… when I was alive.”

He knew he couldn’t go back.

He had come too far.

Vanessa straightened his posture and walked toward Fren.

Fren stood at the deepest part of the storage room.

There, a single pedestal stood—the same one used when Fren had first revealed Vanessa at the exhibition.

Fren extended his hand.

Smiling softly, Vanessa stepped close.

“Nothing happened, right?”

“The paintings were just… moving.”

Suddenly, Fren lifted him and sat him on the pedestal.

Then he stood before him, simply staring—long enough that Vanessa could feel the weight of his gaze.

He knelt on one knee, creating a natural angle where Vanessa looked down at him, though Fren didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re beautiful, Vanessa.”

Vanessa kept the faint smile on his lips and said nothing.

He knew speaking now would be wrong.

A long time passed before Fren rose again.

He placed a brief kiss on Vanessa’s lips.

As he savored Vanessa’s warmth, he whispered:

“One day, you’ll be displayed here as well.”

“…….”

“Thinking about it feels strange somehow. And you, Vanessa? How do you feel about that?”