Rewrite the Rules

300 Days: Part 76

"Okay, I get that," he replied, his brow furrowing further, "but why is this guy freaking out?"

The older gentleman cleared his throat, his voice breaking the suffocating silence. "I'm terribly sorry, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Bernard Bradford, and I'm the head curator for the museum." He gestured towards the painting, his voice tinged with awe. "This, my dear, is a diptych by the renowned Korean abstract painter, Kim Whanki."

Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized the enormity of my blunder. "Actually," I interjected, my voice barely a whisper, "it's a study – a smaller exploration piece for a larger work."

Mr. Bradford's eyes widened. "Kim Whanki 1931-1974. He murmured, reciting the details like a sacred chant. His gaze darted to me, then back to the painting. "Didn't Christie's sell this for a staggering $8 million?"

Panic clawed at my throat. "This is just the study, not the actual painting!" I exclaimed, desperate to clear the air. "It's not worth nearly that much."

A reverent silence descended upon the room as Mr. Bradford donned the gloves and gingerly lifted the painting. He studied it with an intensity that bordered on reverence, his fingers tracing the intricate brushstrokes.

"Wait a second," Namjoon cut in, his voice sharp with confusion. "What's going on here exactly? Emma, you said this was a study from a Korean artist?"

"Yes," I confirmed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No, it isn't just some study," Mr. Bradford interjected, his voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. "This is potentially a valuable, unknown work by one of Korea's greatest artists. The full-size painting might have sold for millions, but a previously undocumented study by Kim Whanki? This could be priceless!"

His words hung in the air, a bombshell exploding in the confines of the small office. Mr. Bradford stared at me, his initial skepticism replaced by a newfound respect, a question lingering in his gaze. "Is what you're saying true, Emma? Is this truly an unknown Kim Whanki study?"

"Sorry, who are you people?" Mr. Bradford demanded, his gaze still glued to the painting. A flicker of annoyance sparked in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the awe he'd displayed moments ago.

"I'm terribly sorry for the confusion," I stammered, my cheeks burning with shame. "My name is Emerson Rowan, and this is Kim Namjoon." The introductions felt hollow, empty names against the weight of the situation.

Mr. Bradford barely blinked, his focus unwavering from the canvas. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, he spoke, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth. "Obviously, this isn't one of our paintings." His words were a blunt instrument, shattering the fragile hope that had bloomed in my chest.

"I can assure you it's not," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's a gift, for my boyfriend's anniversary." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, a desperate attempt to salvage the situation.

Mr. Bradford's gaze flicked to Namjoon, a flicker of recognition crossing his features for a brief moment. Then, his attention returned to me, his expression hardening. "Well, then," he said, his tone clipped, "perhaps we should rectify that." He gestured towards the door with a curt nod. "Please, come with me."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Uncertainty gnawed at me, but I had no choice but to follow. Namjoon placed a reassuring hand on my lower back, his silent support a beacon in the storm of confusion swirling around me.

Mr. Bradford led us through a maze of corridors, the sterile white walls doing little to ease the growing tension. Finally, he stopped in front of a door marked "Restoration Area." He pushed it open, revealing a brightly lit room filled with easels, drying racks, and various art supplies.