Chapter Text
The salty breeze of Whitebay drifted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. Inside, Rafayel was a vision of controlled chaos, his fingers stained with cerulean blue as he moved his brush with lazy, fluid strokes.
Stellie lay sprawled across his expensive velvet sofa, kicking her legs back and forth. She wasn't looking at the art; she was looking at the history of the world he'd accidentally pinned to his walls.
"You're doing it again," she said, gesturing to a fresh canvas. "Did you even notice? That painting of the cracked hourglass? It looks exactly like the relic the Association just recovered from an underground vault."
Rafayel didn't even turn around. He hummed a low, nonchalant tune, his voice as smooth as the tide.
"It's not my fault the world chooses to imitate my art, Stellie. Maybe reality just has very predictable taste. My paintings are simply that good."
Stellie sneered cheekily, sitting up and hugging a silk cushion.
"It's called foresight, Rafayel. Every time you pick up a brush, you basically write a police report for the future. You're bored, you're powerful, and you're already involved in half our cases by accident."
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming.
"How about joining UNICORN? Officially."
The brush stopped mid-air. Rafayel turned slowly, the sunlight catching the hidden, ancient depth in his eyes—the gaze of a Sea God hidden behind the mask of a moody artist. He walked over and squatted down in front of the sofa, bringing himself eye-level with her.
"Do I look like the type of person who obeys rules?"
He asked, his lips curving into a playful, mocking pout.
"I have a reputation to uphold. I don't even show up to my own exhibitions, and you want me to show up for a job? I'm not interested."
Stellie was his closest friend, though their meeting had been pure trouble. They had crossed paths during a case involving one of Rafayel's stolen canvases. Solving it together turned into an unexpected friendship. Along the way, Stellie learned the truth—Rafayel was the Lemuria Sea God, hiding his identity just to enjoy life as a human.
As they grew closer, she noticed a pattern she couldn't ignore.
One day, Rafayel painted a strange stone glowing softly on a dark background. Later, Stellie encountered that exact stone during a mission. It turned out to produce an elixir of life, and the buyer was an underground assassin. UNICORN seized him that same night.
Another time, Rafayel painted an unstable Aether Core, cracking apart in a burst of light. Weeks later, the same kind of explosion tore through a supermarket in Linkon.
Stellie suddenly sat up on the sofa, a wide grin spreading across her face. She pointed a finger at Rafayel like she had just caught him in a trap.
"Let's make a bet," she said smugly. "If I win, you're joining UNICORN. You skip your own exhibitions all the time anyway—just use UNICORN work as an excuse next time. Thomas your assistant can't complain then."
Rafayel scoffed, folded his arms, and stood up straight.
"A bet?" he repeated. "About what?"
Stellie's smirk deepened.
"If your next painting doesn't predict anything or crack a case, I'll stop pushing you to join UNICORN. But if it does—" she tapped the air, "—you join."
Rafayel raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"Fine," he said lightly. "Not all my paintings have foresight."
What Rafayel didn't realize was just how strong his foresight really was—especially when he painted without thinking.
This time, he decided to be careless on purpose.
He painted an ugly fish, pale and lifeless, floating on the surface of the sea. Despite its dead form, a strange, beautiful aura surrounded it, almost serene. When he finished, Rafayel leaned back and smirked at the canvas.
"No way this leads to anything," he said confidently.
Behind him, Thomas carefully wrapped the painting for transport.
"You made a bet with Stellie? The UNICORN hunter?" Thomas asked.
Rafayel nodded proudly.
"How did you know?"
Thomas shook his head, lifting the large painting with a tired sigh.
"Because she was so excited, she texted me immediately."
Rafayel laughed softly.
"So, who do you think wins? Me or her?"
Thomas paused, then sighed again.
"I just wish you'd stop skipping your own exhibitions," he muttered. "You dumb Sea God."
The afternoon sun was warming the floor of the Whitebay penthouse as Rafayel sat perched on his high stool. For two weeks, he had been smugly convinced that he'd won. He had even started planning how he'd rub it in Stellie's face.
To fill the silence, he flicked on the TV. He didn't really care about the news; he just liked the background noise while he worked on a new, non-prophetic landscape.
But then, a familiar image flashed on the screen.
"Local news update."
The reporter began, standing on a pier.
"A strange phenomenon has been discovered in the Linkon waters. This species of 'Elegant Fish,' initially thought to be a mutation, has been identified as a highly toxic bio-weapon. While beautiful to look at, the fish releases a substance that turns seawater pitch black within eight hours of contact. Authorities are now investigating a local chemical plant for illegal dumping."
Rafayel's hand froze. The paintbrush slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the floor and leaving a smear of red across his expensive rug. He sat stunned, staring at the screen with his mouth hanging open.
"Huh...?" he whispered, his brain short-circuiting.
Then, the reality of the situation hit him like a tidal wave. He hopped down from the stool, his face flushed with a mix of shock and betrayal. He marched up to the TV and pointed a shaking finger at the screen.
"I ONLY PAINTED IT TO WIN THE BET—NOT LOSE THE BET!"
The image on the screen matched his painting too well.
The dead fish.
The strange beauty.
The quiet danger.
Too perfect.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a dusty memory of the Lemurian elders surfaced. He could almost hear their ancient, tired voices:
"Young Prince, the Sea God does not speak or paint in vain. Every stroke of your brush is a decree of what is to come. Be careful with your thoughts..."
As a child, Rafayel had ignored those warnings, preferring to chase jellyfish and cause trouble. He had been too carefree to realize that his "naughty" habit of painting random things wasn't just talent—it was an inescapable divine power.
His phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from Stellie.
Stellie: "Guess who won? I see you one hour time at your house! Hehe!"
Rafayel groaned, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling.
"urghhhh!!!"