Now it was Everett's turn to be stunned. "Aren't you sure about this yourself?"
"Oh..." Casimir narrowed his eyes slightly, and quickly put on a warm smile, "This is... because we also obtained this painting through an unexpected means, and we don't know much about it."
"I see."
"I won't hide it from you, President Everett. This painting is not mine. I am only hosting the party on behalf of the owner of the painting, so I really can't decide whether you want to buy this painting."
"I understand. Can you help me contact him as soon as possible?"
"I'm afraid it's not convenient right now."
Everett's brows finally furrowed.
"But the owner of the painting said," Casimir panted, "If I meet someone who truly shares the same passion, I can give it up with some pain."
"Ok?"
Everett raised his eyebrows.
What does this true like-minded person mean?
"It can only be sold to true connoisseurs." Casimir curled his lips in a serious tone. "Only those who truly understand Black Sharon's life and his contributions to human art history... Only such people have the opportunity to discuss it."
Karl's eyelids twitched when he heard this.
The other party took out things with a total value of about 400 million Sera, which can be said to be very sincere.
I won’t even sell this.
According to Casimir, one also needs the ability to "appreciate art".
To get a chance.
A chance to negotiate a price.
This is really too much of a disrespect for the other person...
"So, he is also a person who is passionate about art, especially Sirloin Master."
Everett put away his last bit of contempt and narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Yes, that's as it should be!"
"..." Carl was completely speechless.
Next, in order to avoid being disturbed by others, Everett offered to find a private room to talk with them in detail.
"I am also an admirer of Master Sharon."
After sitting down, Everett couldn't wait to start speaking: "That's why I could recognize it as The Tree of Life at a glance!"
"Don't worry, Mr. President."
Casimir sat opposite and skillfully took out a small notebook and a pen.
"You can tell me everything you understand about Master Sharon."
"I promise to record it in detail for you... and then show it to the owner of the painting~"
Chapter 60 Salon 4
"Ok."
As if impressed by Casimir's expertise, Everett paused for a moment.
"You don't have to pretend with me, Casillas. The confidentiality level of an eighth-level agent is indeed very good, but it's not enough to make you disappear from the world."
"I don't quite understand what you mean." Casimir raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Just as you know who I am, I also know who you are." Everett nodded, "But obviously you don't want to go into this topic, so let's get back on track."
"Mr. President..."
Everett raised a hand.
"Stop it, Agent."
"I've heard about your conflicts with Pondich and even Feka-Jones. Based on the unusual atmosphere in this city recently, I can also sense that something bad is happening."
"I'm sorry that my family can't help you with this, but if you want to ask about Black Sirloin, then I might be able to provide some rough clues."
"I don't need anything in return, I just need a promise... that if you can finally solve the problem here, I want to have the priority to negotiate and purchase the painting."
Casimir's eyes flickered, he pursed his lips and did not agree.
It's the default.
"My understanding of sirloin starts from my boyhood." Nodding, Everett closed his eyes, as if lost in memories of the past.
"Born in such a family, I was brought up very strictly. In addition to studying and exercising every day, I also had to experience various artistic influences, the most important of which was painting."
"I think it's because my father has a special liking for painting... Yes, he likes it very much, and he is also very good at painting."
"The first time I heard the name Black Sharon was from my father. He told me... Black Sharon would be a rare genius painter in Sara, but everyone else ignored his talent."
"He was the first person to come up with this idea, and he took direct action by bringing Blake Sharon to live in his home. I met him a few times because of this... He was really young and extremely thin."
"But according to all the clues I have." Casimir frowned, "Black Sharon seemed to have died in..."
"North, Allwater." Everett nodded. "My father was willing to provide him with any help, but unfortunately, the young master did not like the hot and humid climate in the south, so he headed north not long after."
"For those who play with art, there was no place in the whole of Sara that was more attractive than Allwater. Of course he would go there, but unfortunately later..."
Shaking his head, Everett said nothing more.
Beside him, Karl's brows were slightly furrowed.
"But he still maintained a good relationship with my father." Everett continued to recall, "Because of my father's strong support, his paintings were not only sold, but also sold at a high price and good quality. Of course, there are some people who do not recognize his talent and only take care of his business because of my father's identity, but I think he can understand and he may be grateful for it."
"So, before he left for the North, he did something that surprised us all."
"what's up?"
"My father gave him money on weekdays - for daily expenses. After all, those painting tools and paints are not cheap. He used the money he saved to buy back all the paintings he had sold before, and then locked himself in the room and painted another painting day and night."
"Could that painting be——"
"Yes, it's the one below." The man tapped his chin. "He said it himself. It's called The Tree of Life."
"He said he was very grateful for my father's help and care for him all along. He had nothing to repay him, so he could only leave us a work that could truly be described as the result of his painstaking efforts."
"Your father confiscated it?"
"No."
Casimir didn't ask any further questions because he could imagine what was going on.
As the branch president of the Cape Business Alliance of the previous generation, he almost controls a huge business empire.
If such a work is accepted, doesn’t it mean that the appreciation and help in the early years were all considered “investment”?
That's...too impure.
At least in the eyes of weirdos like Blake Sharon, this is not a good thing.
"We took the things and parted ways. Of course we knew what to choose." Everett smiled. "It turned out that my father was right. He became famous quickly after he went to Alwater. Only he could master that unique style of highlighting emotions in dark shadows."
"..."
"So you should understand why I value that painting so much." Everett said in a low voice.
"It brought back some memories. And memories are usually... hard to buy."
"...Did he keep in touch with your father afterwards?"
Sighing, Casimir continued to ask him.
"Yes, they communicate via letters almost once a month."
"What did they talk about?"
"It's a very common thing... He mentioned what new things he encountered there and his insights during the creative process."
"What's his personality like? I mean, has his personality changed since he went north?"
"Yes, this is actually recorded in many books. He is very arrogant and manic, and he is only patient with a few people."
"Did he become like this after he went to Alwater?"
“I feel like this is becoming more and more like an interrogation.”
Everett raised his eyebrows.
Then he nodded: "Yes...he changed after he went there."
"Did he mention where the painting ended up?"
"No."
"What about the other paintings?"
"Neither do—wait!"
Casimir stopped writing and saw that Everett was frowning and digging for information in his memory.
"The rumor circulating now is that all his paintings were destroyed in the north with the disaster."
"Nothing intact was salvaged, including himself."
"But it seems..."
"If I remember correctly, he mentioned in one of his letters that he had donated several paintings to an asylum."
"...Are you sure?" A strange feeling surged in Casimir's heart.
Asylum...
What a coincidence.
It turned out to be an asylum.
"I'm sure." Everett nodded, "Because this is so rare for him, anyone who encounters it will not remember it wrongly."
"Did he give a reason?"
Casimir continued to write furiously with his head down.
"Why did you donate to that asylum? Was it on a whim or did you like the founder of the asylum? Did you discuss this with your father?"
“I don’t remember much about this.”
"But my father seemed to have mentioned that... he seemed to be moved by one person's spirit of dedication, so he decided to donate things."
"Yes... That man almost spent all his fortune to establish the asylum. He even had no money to treat his own serious illness... When he died, Blake wrote to complain, accusing others of being too indifferent to the matter."
"Do you remember his name?"
"Al-Ford..."
The jumping pen tip suddenly stopped.
"Snapped!"
The next second, the pen tip broke because it couldn't withstand the force.
Casimir rolled his eyes up little by little and stared at the man in front of him.
"Warren Ford?"
"Yes! It's Warren Ford!"
Everett woke up suddenly and looked up at him in surprise.
"……how do you know?"
Casimir said nothing, but just glanced at the fireplace.
The firewood inside was burning vigorously.
But he felt cold all over.
Chapter 61 Clues
Warren Ford.
