Chapter 948: Good Review

After returning to Room 2303 with the painting, Jianna asked Franca:

“Should Lumián contact Stiano? He’d likely be very interested in how to handle paintings like this.”

The previous Rosan self-portrait sketch had been photographed and couldn’t be deleted, but this Cliff Bridge painting couldn’t be photographed at all.

Franca paused for several seconds, then smiled as she replied:

“This is one of the backup plans, but not the preferred one.

“We only know that Stiano is interested in mystical photographs that can spread online and can’t be deleted; we’re unsure whether he has any desire to study paintings that can’t be uploaded. Besides, owing too many favors to one person isn’t necessarily a good thing—eventually, you’ll have to pay them back. There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

“It’s like taking out a small loan—know your limits, prepare to repay from the start.”

Using the analogy of a small loan, Jianna immediately accepted Franca’s reasoning.

“Then how should we handle it?” she asked.

Franca’s smile widened:

“Wait until dawn, after the morning rush hour, then take this painting to Star Dream Grocery.”

“Huh?” Jianna struggled to follow Franca’s train of thought.

Franca, who had read extensively before her transmigration, always thought broadly. She chuckled softly:

“When you reach Star Dream Grocery, ask the shopkeeper if they’ll buy items with mystical elements, and how much they’d offer.

“If He’s willing to buy it, the painting probably won’t be able to return on its own anymore.”

Could it really work like that? Jianna thought carefully—and found it somewhat plausible:

Based on the premise that only a True God could enter Mr. Fool’s dreams, excluding those who held the medium or had a special connection, and given that contacting the Major Arcana required mailing letters to the High Cleric of the Church of the Night Goddess via Star Dream Grocery, along with the shop’s dim atmosphere, Lumián’s team had likely guessed the shopkeeper’s true identity in reality—but none had ever spoken it aloud.

If the shopkeeper agreed to buy this strange painting, it meant He definitely had a way to control the anomaly and truly transfer ownership to Himself.

Besides, wasn’t it perfectly normal for a shop specializing in mystical elements to purchase items with mystical elements?

After several seconds of careful consideration, Jianna asked:

“What if the shopkeeper refuses to buy it?”

“Then ask if He’ll let you leave it for consignment. We’ll pay storage fees and a share of the final sale—essentially paying Him to handle the anomaly.” Franca smiled. “If He still refuses, use Lumián to contact Stiano. If Stiano won’t take it, you take the painting to the Police Bureau during the day—just make sure to hide your identity.”

At this point, Franca’s expression turned serious:

My spiritual intuition and mystical experience both tell me that your handling of this painting won't go smoothly—it will be dangerous. If the danger becomes too great, withdraw from the dream. You still have two more chances; there's no need to risk your life now.

“Understood.” Jianna nodded solemnly.

Afterwards, she and Franca reentered the strange space and found Rosan waiting again beside the translucent barrier, in excellent condition.

Franca revealed her colleague status and chatted with Rosan, learning in greater detail about Zhou Mingrui’s condition and which employees of the Indus Group deserved attention.

The conversation left Franca and Jianna deeply satisfied—they felt saving Rosan wasn’t just a choice of emotion or stance, but also a remarkably correct decision made during their mission.

The intelligence gained from Rosan would have taken Franca and Lumián one or two months to gather slowly on their own.

“You’ll need to help convince Zhou Mingrui that he’s the future savior,” Franca said with a sweet smile to Rosan. “We can’t just tell him the truth—he won’t believe it.”

“He definitely won’t believe it. No normal person would. They’d think it’s a prank or a scam.” Rosan nodded, then added in a whisper, “I don’t even fully believe it myself…”

Franca pretended not to hear Rosan’s muttering and changed the subject.

When dawn arrived and they automatically exited the strange space, Franca rolled out of bed, pulled out today’s outfit from the wardrobe, and wore a heavy expression.

Before Jianna could speak, Franca volunteered:

“You’re likely to encounter danger or anomalies today. Wear something more practical for movement.”

Jianna nodded lightly and didn’t refuse.

Franca quickly washed up, shed her pajamas, and slowly changed clothes while muttering under her breath:

“After becoming a ‘Witch’ and adapting to it, I sometimes felt proud and happy when strangers stared at me on the street—I thought, ‘How charming I am!’ Maybe this is one form of the ‘Witch’s’ narcissism.

“But being willing and being forced are different. I never liked it, just like when I was in school, they always forced us to wear uniforms on Mondays. Every class had a few rebellious boys who’d rather face punishment…”

Franca spoke randomly, as if trying to distract herself and reduce her shame.

She bent over awkwardly, pulling on the most conservative nude stockings, then stepped into brand-new high heels with very low heels, stood up, and adjusted her blouse and light gray skirt reaching just above her knees using the full-length mirror embedded in the wardrobe.

Looking at her reflection, Franca pursed her lips, feeling deeply complicated.

Jianna watched silently, saying nothing.

After applying makeup to make herself look uglier, tying up her long hair, putting on her glasses, and grabbing a high-quality imitation handbag, Franca walked steadily toward the door.

Just before stepping out, she turned back and smiled at Jianna:

“Thank you for not saying, ‘You look beautiful in this,’ or ‘You’re really suited to this.’ But you did seem just a little stunned a moment ago—yes, that made me feel a bit better.”

“Yes,” Jianna replied with a confirming smile.

Franca waved and stepped out the door.

What a person skilled at regulating her own emotions—and so optimistic… Jianna murmured to herself, then turned her gaze away and waited patiently for the morning rush to pass.

Near nine o’clock, she carried the painting, left Building Five, and arrived at the complex’s lobby.

She chose to take a ride-hailing car to Star Dream Grocery instead of the subway and bus, fearing the painting’s anomaly might affect more people—perhaps the hidden danger wouldn’t harm her, but widespread chaos could bring worse consequences.

After a while, Jianna stepped out of the lobby onto the roadside and saw a white sedan waiting for her.

She opened the door with one hand, glanced at the driver’s seat, confirmed he wore no monocle or other obvious features, was someone she didn’t know, and hadn’t triggered her spiritual intuition.

Jianna sat in the back seat, placing the painting on her lap and holding it close.

After verifying her phone number’s last digits, the driver started the car.

Jianna remained hyper-alert, vigilantly prepared for any possible incident.

Suddenly, she felt her breathing grow difficult, yet there was no visible anomaly around her.

It was as if another version of her had been submerged underwater—the sensation of drowning transmitted itself through mystical connection.

Without hesitation, Jianna pulled out a mirror, plucked two hairs, and tried to stick them onto the mirror’s surface, then burned them with the Witch’s black flame.

She was casting a black magic tied to the “Mirror Double,” attempting to transfer the mystical link onto the mirror.

At that moment, Jianna saw a hallucination: gently swaying emerald-green water, her own hands flailing uncontrollably as if struggling to break the surface.

But a force pulled at her legs, dragging her toward the ocean floor.

Almost simultaneously, a pale, bloated hand reached out from nowhere and clamped over her mouth.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…”

Jianna showed clear signs of drowning—her nose, airway, and lungs became excruciatingly uncomfortable.

She tried to activate her double, but couldn’t sense any mirrors—she and them seemed separated into different worlds, the mystical link severed.

Suddenly, black flames poured from Jianna’s eyes, nostrils, mouth, and ears—burning inward and outward, consuming her body and all invisible forces trying to influence her.

Outside the black flames, frost condensed, encasing Jianna in a thick sphere of ice and snow.

On the sphere’s surface, countless invisible spider threads retracted, layer upon layer wrapping into a massive “cocoon.”

Jianna no longer felt the agony of drowning, but still couldn’t sense her body or her doubles.

The next instant, she found herself walking on a bridge.

Across the bridge loomed a steep cliff and a black forest at its far end.

“Have I entered the painting?” Jianna tried to turn back, to return to the bridge’s start and escape the painting’s world—but she couldn’t control her body, helplessly watching “herself” continue forward along the bridge.

At that moment, two figures emerged from the black forest.

One was Rosan, her face twisted with malice; the other was Jianna herself.

Jianna herself, wearing a seductive smile!

CRACK!

The bridge suddenly snapped. Jianna fell into a bottomless darkness.

Overwhelming fear and despair flooded Jianna’s mind; her consciousness rapidly blurred, unable to save herself.

She could already picture herself smashed into bloody shreds.

Before her awareness fully slipped into darkness, before unimaginable pain arrived, she mustered her last shred of clarity—ready to withdraw from the dream.

But it didn’t work.

It didn’t work!

Useless… Jianna’s gaze froze.

She hadn’t given up. She still tried to save herself—clenching her teeth, struggling to regain control of her body to use the Witch’s Feather Fall technique.

At that moment, a ray of sunlight pierced the dark abyss, illuminating the cliff above.

All scenes before Jianna shattered instantly into fragments under the brilliant sunlight.

She snapped open her eyes and found herself still seated in the car, the painting held tightly in her arms.

“We’ve arrived,” the driver said, turning slightly to remind her.

Already? Jianna felt as if she’d walked all morning in sweltering heat, her clothes soaked in sweat.

She gazed dazedly out the window and saw Star Dream Grocery.

Jianna instinctively pushed open the door and rushed toward the shop, desperate to escape any further anomalies.

“Don’t forget to leave a good review!” the driver called after her.

Jianna instinctively turned her body to look back at the driver.

The driver smiled, pulling out a crystal monocle from nowhere and placing it over his right eye.

(End of Chapter)