Chapter 1 A Scheme
Vossshire is home to the largest artifact trading center in Velesia. Visitors just need to buy a ticket to witness the live auction of historical treasures.
With the fall of the gavel, multi-million-dollar deals were sealed in an instant!
Throughout the auction, visitors were thrilled, feeling as if they had participated in multi-million-dollar projects.
The auction house, already not in need of ticket revenue, gained significant social influence—a win-win.
Recently, the auction house had been more popular than ever, thanks to a new influencer
She became famous unexpectedly in a travel vlogger's video. In just a few seconds of footage, she appeared like a fleeting firework, leaving a lasting impression.
Her beauty wasn't gaudy or reminiscent of online influencers. She looked classical and elegant, stunningly beautiful.
Overnight, she became a sensation, earning the nickname: Auction Angel.
Many people came just to catch a glimpse of her, but she remained exceptionally low-key, refusing interviews and photos with visitors.
With this kind of fame, she could easily register a social media account, post a few videos, and make a fortune through live streaming!
Some thought it was a publicity stunt by an MCN company, but curious netizens soon debunked the rumors
[The Auction Angel is Elara Voss, the owner of the independent art studio 'Story Revival Atelier.' At 23, she holds a PhD in archaeology from the top university in Velesia and is a rising star in the field of art authentication and restoration. Known for her eagle eyes and miracle hands, she's made a name for herself in the industry.]
[Graduated from the best archaeology program at 21;she's a genius!]
[Transformed into an industry elite in just two years—she's a prodigy!]
[Don't tarnish my goddess with your dirty online fame tactics!]
[I propose you all stop obsessing over my wife and let her focus on her career. You can skip the wedding gifts in the future...]
[Shameless.]
Netizens continued to joke and support Elara, while she seemed oblivious to it all.
Story Revival Atelier.
Quiet, serene.
In the temperature and humidity-controlled restoration room, the light was soft and ample.
The scent of ink mixed with cedar filled the air. The sound of a paintbrush gliding across canvas was faint, accompanied by careful breathing, as if even the slightest air movement could cause a disaster.
On the polished lacquer restoration table, a row of tools was neatly arranged.
Elara sat upright, her eyes sharp and focused on a damaged piece of canvas under the lamp.
It was an landscape painting, detailed with flowers and birds, its colors vivid. But time had taken its toll. After centuries of dust and moisture, the lower right corner of the canvas was fragile, with a thumb-sized hole eroding the edge of a rock and a patch of moss.Elara gently steamed the area around the painting with distilled water, like caressing a newborn's hair, to restore some flexibility to the canvas.
Then, with her delicate fingers, she picked up a tiny piece of old canvas, the color of withered branches, and placed it under the hole.
Elara's entire world seemed to shrink to the size of the hole.
She adjusted the high-magnification lens on her head, bringing her beautiful eyes into focus with the canvas.
Her right hand, holding a precision knife, traced the jagged edge of the hole with surgical precision—any surgeon in Vossshire would be in awe of her control.
This was far more intricate than surgery.
She had to cut the fibers of the patch without going too deep and risking damage to the already fragile canvas beneath.
This wasn't just a job; it was a dialogue with the soul of a craftsman from centuries past, a reverent attempt to preserve a piece of history.
Only in these moments did a rare softness flicker in her usually calm eyes.
As time passed, sweat soaked her temples.
Elara paused, worried that her sweat might drip onto the canvas. She wiped her face with a towel and stretched.
Unnoticed, night had fallen. Looking at the night view outside, Elara smiled.
Today was a good day.
Elara's father, Thorne Voss, had been invited by the auction house's powerful backer, Blackwood Heritage Group, to be the chief appraiser for the upcoming "Treasures of the Sea" auction, to authenticate a masterpiece and confirm its details.
Elara trusted Thorne completely.
Thorne had spent decades in the art world, known for his sharp eye and integrity. This was the highest recognition in the industry. If this went well, their 'Story Revival Atelier' would gain national fame.
But today, as Thorne left, Elara, usually rational and calm, repeatedly reminded him of the weight of the responsibility.
Blackwood Heritage Group was a powerful entity, but also a complex web of wealth and power, something Elara had heard about.
More importantly, the man behind this corporate giant, Kieran Blackwood... The thought of him sent a shiver down her spine. The first time she saw him, his imperial presence was overwhelming.
The auction house had contacted her multiple times, wanting her to join Blackwood Heritage Group, but she had always refused.
She instinctively resisted him, wanting to stay as far away as possible.
Night deepened, and time ticked by.
It was supposed to end at 10 PM, but now it was past 11, and Thorne hadn't returned.
No matter how busy, Thorne would always call her after finishing. "Sweetie, just wrapped up. What do you want to eat? I'll bring you something!"
Thorne didn't drink, so he wouldn't be out celebrating with friends.
A buzzing in her mind gave Elara a bad feeling.
She sat back at her workbench, took a sip of coffee, and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
She picked up a chisel and began practicing carving. Whenever she felt unsettled, she focused on her chisel techniques to steady her hands and calm her mind.
With each strike, the sound echoed softly in the workshop, her hands steady, the chisel gliding through the stone.
One tap, two taps, three taps...
Chips of stone flew like confetti, her hands steady, the chisel dancing across the surface, revealing the form hidden within.
The phone rang, displaying an unknown number.
"Is this Elara Voss? Your father, Thorne Voss, has been detained for allegedly stealing and damaging a first-class artifact, 'Snowy Journey,' from Blackwood Heritage Group's storage. Blackwood Heritage Group reserves all rights to pursue legal action. Please keep your phone on for further police inquiries."
Suddenly, the chisel broke as it struck the stone.The world seemed to distort in an instant.
Every word from the call hit her like a hammer.
Father? Theft? Damaging a first-class artifact?
Ridiculous!
Who orchestrated this farce?
But the cold reality was already crashing down.
Messages started pouring in, asking what was going on.
Then, news of her bank accounts being frozen followed.
So fast?
Elara smiled bitterly.
Thorne went to Blackwood Heritage Group to verify something.
She trusted Thorne's integrity. He would never do such a thing.
Art was his life; he would never steal or damage it.
Someone must have set him up!
The measures were in place by 11 PM, clearly premeditated!
She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts.
Friends, mentors, and leaders who usually admired her talent were now out of reach.
[This is a tough situation. Blackwood Heritage Group has solid evidence.]
[Elara, I know Mr. Voss's character, but this time, the public opinion is too strong, and you know the power of Blackwood Heritage Group... We can't intervene.]
Most didn't answer.
After a round of calls, the only hint came from a small art fund manager who discreetly suggested.
"Mr. Voss is getting old. Blackwood Heritage Group's security is tight. Theft is impossible, and damage even less. So the root of this matter likely lies with someone at Blackwood Heritage Group. You helped us with a restoration before; consider this a return favor. I can't say more. Miss Voss, please understand."
Kieran Blackwood.
The name was like a cold brand, searing into Elara's consciousness.
The man, always shrouded in rumors, why had he targeted Story Revival Atelier?
The phone rang again.
She reached out, her fingers cold as she gripped the phone.
"Elara Voss?"
The voice on the other end was low, steady, with a chilling quality that pierced through, devoid of any emotion. "Do you want to save your father? Tomorrow morning at 8, Story Revival Atelier rooftop, CEO's office. You have one chance, don't be late."
The call ended abruptly, giving Elara no chance to ask who it was.
Of course, she didn't need to ask.
The voice carried an unspoken authority and certainty, like a steel grip around her throat.
Elara put down the phone, her fingers white from the pressure, her back drenched in sweat.
She realized that, at some point, the entire Story Revival Atelier had fallen into a trap.