A man wearing a dark-red trench coat sat in a luxurious red leather armchair. He crossed his legs, rested his left hand against his cheek, and wore a mask that concealed his face. His unkempt bangs fell loosely over his forehead as he gazed indifferently at the underground city outside the window, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he were smiling.

Annan's brush moved swiftly across the canvas. Before long, the painting began to take shape. However, she frowned slightly. "Don't move."

Ashe complained, "I can't hold the same pose for that long. I've never worked part-time as a model before."

"But if you keep moving, I can't draw you.  I have a good solution. Ashe, don't move!"

Ashe instantly stiffened. Satisfied, Annan resumed painting with a smile. "It's a pity the world outside isn't burning. Otherwise, this would perfectly match your future image at the top of the Art Ranking."

"You're not as mature as the version of yourself on the Art Ranking," Ashe countered. "But no matter which ranking it is, the version of me on them always looks pretty...