NOVEL NEXT Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Rafayel entered the studio triumphantly, balancing an absurdly large cardboard box in his arms.
"What now?" Rowan asked, sprawled on the sofa. He arched an eyebrow as Rafayel set the box on the floor with an exaggerated flourish.
"Behold!" Rafayel said, throwing open the flaps. "The treasures of my artistic conquest."
Rowan peeked into the box. Inside was an eclectic mix of items: a pink flamingo figurine, a miniature carousel, a stack of colorful feathers, a broken hourglass, and an unidentifiable object that looked like a metallic mushroom.
"Rafayel," Rowan said, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation, "are you okay?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rafayel retorted, clutching the metallic mushroom protectively.
"I mean," Rowan said, suppressing a grin, "this looks less like artistic inspiration and more like the aftermath of a yard sale brawl."
Rafayel placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. "Excuse you. These are relics of unparalleled value. Each piece holds a story, a whisper of the past."
Rowan picked up the mushroom, turning it over in his hands. "This one's whispering, 'I'm radioactive; run for your life.'"
Snatching the mushroom back, Rafayel sniffed haughtily. "You wouldn't understand. My creative vision transcends mortal comprehension."
Rowan laughed. "You're such a drama queen."
"And you," Rafayel shot back, waving the feathers at him like a wand, "are a tasteless peasant who wouldn't know art if it danced in front of you."
He grabbed the stack of colorful feathers and waved them at Rowan, who snorted with laughter.
The banter continued as Rafayel began arranging his trinkets on the table, muttering about compositions and energy flows. Meanwhile, Rowan's attention wandered to a dusty old sketchbook lying on a nearby shelf. Curious, he flipped through it, feeling an odd sense of familiarity with the blank pages. Without thinking, he grabbed a pencil and began to draw.
Time seemed to slow as Rowan's hand moved across the page. Lines and curves formed the figure of a sea god: regal, mysterious, and radiating power. Lost in thought, he barely noticed Rafayel creeping up behind him.
"What are you—" Rafayel's voice trailed off as he saw the drawing. His usual smirk faded, replaced by genuine shocked ."You're an artist too?"
Rowan glanced up. "Yeah, Surprised."
Rafayel rolled his eyes and asked again
"Why a sea god?"
Rowan hesitated. "It reminded me of someone."
"Someone, huh?" Rafayel leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "Care to elaborate?"
Rowan smirked but said nothing, returning to his sketchbook. Rafayel frowned, but before he could press further, Rowan began a new drawing. This time, it was a man with glasses and a calm demeanor, exuding an air of intelligence.
"Who's this?" Rafayel asked, pointing at the figure.
"Just someone I know." Rowan replied vaguely.
Rafayel raised an eyebrow but let it slide. Moments later, Rowan started another sketch, this one of a man in a futuristic spacesuit. Rafayel's curiosity got the better of him. "Okay, now you have to tell me. Who are these guys?"
Rowan shrugged. "Nothing"
Rafayel crossed his arms. "You're infuriating , you know that?"
Rowan grinned."I know"
Rafayel rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his intrigue. "Fine, keep your secrets. I have more important things to do." He turned back to his odd collection, muttering about finding the perfect place for his flamingo figurine.
As Rowan continued sketching, a system notification suddenly appeared before his eyes:
"Do not reveal the identities of the other male love interest."
Before he could react, an intense pain shot through his head, making him clutch his temples. He let out a sharp gasp, drawing Rafayel's attention.
"What now?" Rafayel asked, sounding mildly annoyed.
"Rafayel..." Rowan's voice was weak, and when he looked up, blood was trickling from his nose. "Help."
Rafayel turned, irritation turning to alarm as he saw Rowan's pale face. "Rowan!" He rushed to his side. "What's happening to you?"
Rowan tried to speak, but he couldn't.
Rafayel steadied Rowan, his concern masked under a layer of irritation. He guided him to the sofa and grabbed a towel, dabbing at Rowan's nose.
"Blood?" Rafayel muttered, eyes narrowing. "Seriously, what is wrong with you? Did you choke on your own secrets?"
Rowan managed a weak chuckle but winced as the pain in his head lingered. "Yeah, I think"
Rafayel froze, his sharp gaze zeroing in on Rowan
Rowan hesitated, the words catching in his throat as the system's warning loomed in his mind. "Do not reveal the identities of the other male love interest." A sharp sting pierced his temple, and he instinctively clutched his head.
"Hey!" Rafayel's voice cut through the fog of pain. "What is really happening to you? Tell me"
"I…can't" Rowan stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You can't??!!" Rafayel pressed, his patience wearing thin.
Rowan gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. "I—" He stopped himself, the system's warning flaring red in his mind, almost taunting him.
"Violation detected: Further attempts to reveal information will result in punishment."
The searing pain returned, making Rowan double over. A soft groan escaped him as Rafayel's annoyance turned to alarm.
"Rowan?" Rafayel leaned closer, his tone softer now.
"I'm fine," Rowan interrupted, though his voice was strained. He met Rafayel's gaze, forcing a weak smile. "Just… give me a moment."
Rafayel's sharp eyes scanned Rowan's face, lingering on the fading traces of pain. He sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're the most suspicious person I've ever met."
Rowan chuckled lightly, despite the lingering ache in his head. "Take one to know one."
Rafayel rolled his eyes.He stood and turned back to his odd collection of trinkets, muttering something.
As Rowan watched Rafayel move away, he let out a small sigh of relief. But his reprieve was short-lived. The system's voice echoed in his mind once more:
"This is your final warning. Do not test the boundaries."
Rowan swallowed hard, the weight of the system's threat pressing down on him. He glanced at the sketches on the table and silently vowed to tread more carefully.