An exhibition. Basil was mingled among the crowd. A black coat and silver hair. Though his appearance was striking, he knew the art of blending into a throng. Basil knew a way of walking that left no trace in anyone's memory.

He entered the venue. There was no need to remove his shoes, yet Basil felt an unconscious urge to do so. It felt as though he were stepping onto sacred ground.

He stopped before the first piece and caught his breath. It was entirely different from what he had imagined based on the small newspaper article.

...Ah.

Basil's guard lowered slightly. His fingertips reached out as if to touch the canvas, stopping just short of the surface.

This is it.

Now, now, Guest-sensei, please reconsider. If we put it up for auction, thirty million is a conservative estimate. No, it might even go for forty million. The collectors are already salivating over that portrait series.

Borton took a card from his leather business card case and slid it across the table.

We'll handle the venue setup. I'll keep the commission to a minimum. Come now, it's not a bad deal, is it?