I won’t mention the other aspects, but Annan was very confident in his own acting skills and memory.
After seeing the portrait of Elle, he had memorized Elle’s expressions and movements.
Thus, he reverse-engineered from the finished product back to the real person, perfectly replicating "Elle’s" facial expressions and movements at that time, effortlessly leading Amos Morrison to complete this portrait without any suspicion.
But after all, Annan was not the real Elle Morrison.
Perhaps because Annan’s performance was too perfect, even more like Elle than "Elle" herself... Or maybe it was because he really hadn’t moved for over two hours, that hesitation appeared on Amos’s face.
Was he becoming suspicious?
A faint impulse to kill flickered through Annan’s heart.
The scenario was different from before.
Previously, Annan had been using the aged body of the painter "Amos," which was not just weak and powerless, but also had a bleeding, unstoppable wound in the abdomen—hardly capable of any action.
But Elle Morrison, his daughter, was different.
This was a very young and healthy body.
Even if Amos was at his prime, Annan was at least seventy percent sure that he could successfully ambush him and kill his father right here.
——As long as you die, I’m probably safe.
But Annan hesitated for a moment and then gave up on the idea.
Because he quickly realized that Amos was not doubting his identity...
But rather... feeling guilty?
"Hmm... I’m sorry, Elle. You did well, but this is the best I can do," Amos sighed softly, muttering under his breath, "If I had that thing..."
Annan expressed his query using as little information as possible.
The painter sighed again.
He regretfully pounded his thigh and whispered to himself, "It’s a pity I’ve used it all up... No, no. It’s better that it’s all used up; otherwise, with your beauty, if I still had some left, I might really not have been able to resist using it..."
The man spoke and slowly set down his paintbrush, looking wearily at his daughter.
"I’m sorry, Elle. I lied.
"Our agreement was impossible to fulfill from the start. Because what you don’t know is that everyone I painted in that kind of portrait, they all actually..."
At this point, a flash of pain crossed Amos’s eyes.
Clearly, admitting this to his daughter was akin to torturing his soul.
But Annan remained absolutely still until the portrait was complete, which apparently triggered some condition.
There must have been an agreement between the two that if Elle could endure to the end, Amos would have to paint "that kind" of portrait for her.
And clearly, this condition was impossible from the start.
"I didn’t originally want to tell you this. I thought, if you moved around or got impatient, I would just pretend to get angry—I thought you would certainly do that. In that case, Dad would have blamed you for wasting the precious God-given pigments and refused to paint the portrait for you..."
...God-given pigments?
Annan quickly caught onto the key point from Amos’s words.
"There’s no need to apologize, Dad."
Gauging what Elle’s personality might be like through Amos’s tone, Annan watched Amos’s eyes and slowly said, "I didn’t particularly want it anyway..."
Seeing a moment of puzzlement and confusion in Amos’s eyes, he suddenly changed the subject, "At least now that I know it’s not good for me, I wouldn’t insist on it. I trust you... you couldn’t lie to me, especially after... what you said before."
Upon hearing this, Amos finally breathed a sigh of relief.
His smile relaxed instantly: "That’s good, Elle. You’ve grown up... But remember, you can’t talk about these things outside. This painting is for you, happy birthday."
Annan smiled and said, "But I think, this gift isn’t quite enough."
Amos repeated, "I’ll go buy you a cake right away. We’ve had a pastry chef who came from the Royal Capital recently, and his skills are said to be very good..."
A thought suddenly flashed through Annan’s mind.
It was something Salvatore, his senior, had mentioned when introducing him to the "landmark merchants" of Frostwater Harbor:
"The old baker in Frostwater Harbor is very skilled, supposedly having come from the Royal Capital decades ago."
This place... could it be Frostwater Harbor from decades ago?
Annan felt a jolt of electricity surge up his spine as he asked tentatively, "Why did he come from the Royal Capital? This place is... quite remote, isn’t it?"
The word "remote" was chosen very cautiously because it is highly subjective.
No matter where one is, they could describe their location as remote. Even in the Royal Capital, those living on the outskirts could call themselves "remote" without anyone finding it odd.
But Amos had no wariness towards Annan or rather towards "Elle."
"He must have saved up a fair amount of money in the first half of his life and didn’t want to work anymore. After all, the cost of living is low here."
He answered casually, "Frostwater Harbor might be a bit remote, but it is still a frost-free port. Elle, you might not know this, but many exotic goods from foreign lands, once purchased here and sold in the Royal Capital, can fetch three to four times the price."
Annan nodded as if in sudden understanding.
It was only after Amos left the room that Annan narrowed his eyes slightly. The innocent and clear emerald eyes belonging to Elle Morrison now revealed a fox-like cunning and depth.
This was indeed the past. The Frostwater Harbor of decades ago.
In that case, the first instance seemed to also have been a real event from the past...
But because the time span in that instance was too small, Annan hadn’t realized the extent to which the "nightmare" could reverse time.
Now, he was finally convinced.
- At least a few decades’ worth.
In that instance, he had gained an identity belonging to Annan. He had acquired many secrets belonging to the Geraint family...
So, what could he gain in this instance?
In this nightmare woven from a real event of decades past, what valuable information could he uncover?
Amos’s assumption was wrong because decades later, Frostwater Harbor would become very dilapidated, and you couldn’t buy foreign delicacies there anymore. But the baker did not leave; instead, he settled down there... When people could no longer afford cakes or pastries, he abandoned his craft to bake bread.
Even the locals of Frostwater Harbor found it strange why he would do such a thing.
It is said that the baker had once won a pastry chef competition in the Royal Capital. With his status, he could have worked for a great noble house as a white-aproned chef, certainly earning more and with less hassle than running a bakery.
His secret seemed worth exploring during this time period.
Annan decided to take advantage of the fact that Elle’s dad was not at home.
He was going to take his house apart.
Be it intelligence, information, knowledge, secrets, as well as treasures, weapons, and equipment... he wanted it all!
This wasn’t like a player casually looting an NPC’s house—this was him performing a main quest!
The main quest required him to "uncover the secret of Amos Morrison."
If it was a secret, it certainly wouldn’t be hidden somewhere in plain sight.
"It’s odd that the Winter Duke’s family crest is a wolf’s head, yet here I am doing a Husky’s job..."
Mumbling his dissatisfaction, Annan sprung up from the bed.
Annan ’Not a Husky’ Winter began skillfully dismantling Elle Morrison’s room.