At the Charity Federation of New York, President Lancelot Fence leaned back in his chair, brows slightly furrowed.
"You're saying the Master of Clouds is donating ten new works to be auctioned through our federation?" he asked, his voice laced with doubt. "That's quite the claim, Alton. Are you sure this is reliable?"
The Master of Clouds had been a legendary yet elusive figure in the art world for years. With very few known works and not a single public appearance, his reputation rested entirely on the brilliance of his rare creations. His most recent painting, Blooming Rose, had created a frenzy in New York's art circles.
Alton Wood, head of the prestigious Wood family, smiled calmly.
"It's reliable. In fact," he said, reaching into a briefcase, "I brought a new piece with me."
He unfolded the painting, revealing a striking composition imbued with elegance and soul.
Lancelot's eyes lit up.
"This… This is definitely his work."
"The rest are still in progress," Alton added. "The Master of Clouds is quite busy."
"That's wonderful!" Lancelot exclaimed. "As soon as the remaining pieces are ready, I'll organize a charity auction immediately."
A Few Days Later…
The Charity Federation formally announced a major event:
A charity auction would be held on Sunday evening, on the third floor of the New York Cultural Palace.
Ninety percent of all proceeds would go to the city's welfare institutions.
More importantly, the auction would feature ten brand new works by the Master of Clouds.
Governor Hugh Kurds himself would supervise the event.
The announcement sent waves through the art world.
The Master of Clouds!
The most mysterious and celebrated figure in modern calligraphy and painting!
Last time, his Blooming Rose caused a near riot. Most didn't even get to see the work in person—let alone bid on it.
This time, no one was going to miss it.
Five thousand online tickets sold out in a matter of hours. An additional 200 hand-delivered invitations were sent to elite families and entrepreneurs across the state.
The Yeats family was among the recipients.
Sunday Evening – Cultural Palace, New York
In the elegantly lit hall of the palace's third floor, the elite of the city gathered.
Marcia Kelvin adjusted her dress as she took a seat in the front row, a satisfied expression on her face.
She had every reason to be pleased—her daughter, Queenie Yeats, had finally agreed to return to the Yeats family home. Though it was only half-voluntary, Marcia believed that with enough time, Queenie would forget her humble past.
In high society, lineage and reputation mattered. Mingling with low-class "nobodies" like John Lopez was dangerous. Just look at what happened to Alan Brown.
As she settled in, a familiar voice made her spine stiffen.
"Aunt Marcia, you seem to be in a pretty good mood today."
Her heart skipped.
She turned slowly.
No. It can't be…
Her expression instantly turned sour.
John Lopez.
Smiling like nothing had happened, he sat comfortably beside her in the VIP section.
"This is a VIP seat. What are you doing here?" she snapped, scowling. "Let me guess—Alton Wood arranged it for you."
Disgusted, she immediately swapped seats with her husband, Nick Yeats.
John, still relaxed, greeted him with a grin. "Uncle Nick, you don't look too happy either."
Nick's face darkened.
Why would I be happy? Sitting next to you ruins the whole evening.
He said nothing, ignoring John entirely.
John, unfazed, simply leaned back and waited as the auction began.
The host took the stage with the usual ceremonial flair—opening remarks, a word from the governor, and a speech from President Lancelot.
John tuned it all out.
He'd already asked Hugh Kurds and Alton Wood not to reveal his identity as the Master of Clouds.
Too much hassle.
He didn't want to be mobbed by admirers asking for autographs.
So, while the hall buzzed with fierce bidding and excitement, John drifted off and took a nap.
The Yeats couple glanced over in disdain.
To them, John sleeping during a high-society event was just further proof he didn't belong.
A mangy dog doesn't turn into a phoenix just because someone tapes feathers to its back.
Later That Night…
As the second half of the auction began, John stirred awake—just in time.
The host returned to the stage, holding a sealed envelope.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise!"
The hall fell silent in anticipation.
"Tonight, in addition to the ten art pieces," he said with a grin, "we have ten autographed photos from the Master of Clouds!"
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Autographs?!"
"Is he finally going to show his face?"
"This is incredible!"
The excitement in the room surged to a fever pitch, especially among the artists and collectors.
The host continued, "These ten artistic autographs will be given away for free to ten lucky audience members selected at random!"
The hall erupted.
No one cared that the autograph would be delivered on something as mundane as… a facial mask.
"A facial mask?" someone asked, confused.
"It doesn't matter! If it's signed by the Master of Clouds, I'd slap a cabbage leaf on my face if I had to!"
The draw began.
Unbeknownst to the crowd, seven of the ten winners had been pre-selected—women from high society known for having less-than-perfect skin, and who just so happened to be frequent skincare clinic clients.
Among them was Lanny Lee, seated a few rows behind Marcia Kelvin.
Lanny was a socialite, famous for her glamorous fashion and… darker complexion. In celebrity circles, they called her the "Dark Beauty."
She and Marcia were old friends, known for booking hair and spa appointments together.
When her name was called, Lanny's eyes widened in disbelief.
Me? I was chosen?
She was both surprised and thrilled.