2.15 P.M, 14 June 2020

The black heels clattered seamlessly, in a rhythmic pattern against the white marble of the lobby of Palazzo Vecchio located in Florence, Italy. Or to be more exact, between Piazza del Duomo and the Arno River.

Sunlight seeped through the two-lighted gothic windows which had withheld numerous centuries of the historical past.

The owner of the black heels then stopped suddenly when she received a message on her electronic gadget.

FROM: Professor Ahn Yujin of Harvard University

Good afternoon, curator of Palazzo Vecchio, I would like to apologise for announcing my short notice. It just seemed like my university has decided to reschedule the flight to a later date due to the request of my students. So if possible, could you accommodate me for an evening tour round the walls of Palazzo Vecchio? Once again, I would like to apologise for this sudden request.

 

TO: Professor Ahn Yujin of Harvard University

It would be my pleasure to be your host for the evening. Please remember to tell the guard on duty for the evening, Miss Choi Yena, that you are allowed to visit for the evening. I anticipate your arrival for the evening to come.

 

Just as the curator was about to take a step out of the one of the winding corridors of the old town hall of Florence, another notification popped up on her phone again.

 

FROM: Professor Ahn Yujin of Harvard University

Thank you for accommodating me for the evening to come, curator of Palazzo Vecchio. I would roughly arrive at 7 o’clock in the evening unless the evening traffic down here at Ponte alle Grazie becomes worse. But I would like to thank you for accommodating me once again on such a short notice, at that.

 

TO: Professor Ahn Yujin of Harvard University

It will be a pleasure to bring around an avid admirer of such magnificent artworks and someone who enlightens young minds on the history of art so I do anticipate your arrival. It would be understandable if you come a bit later for I understand how the evening traffic down at Ponte alle Grazie is. Grazie.

 

And with that, the curator of Palazzo Vecchio moved forward to a meeting she had with one of the stakeholders, in roughly an hour, who was willing to invest a larger sum of money to the preservation of several artifacts.

She smiled to herself, anticipating the arrival of the statuesque professor, who had adorable, deep dimples which she thought could hold the waters of Arno river which ran through Florence, Italy.

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7.00 P.M, 14 June 2020

“Buona Sera, Miss Choi. I am Professor of History of Art at Harvard University, Miss Ahn Yujin.” Yujin said as she held out a firm hand to the security guard who stood firmly on her ground.

“Oh, you must be the ‘attractive’ professor that Miss Curator was talking about earlier. But never mind that now, come in under the shelter of Palazzo Vecchio. I’m sure the evening traffic must have taken a toll on you.” The guard chuckled to herself, scanning the identification card flashed out by the gentlewoman in front of her who wore horn rimmed glasses and was clad in an olive turtleneck which was paired with a khaki overcoat.

To top off the professor's fashion, she had it paired with tapered, wheat coloured pants along with pecan loafers.

“No, it wasn’t much of a hassle for I managed to catch a couple minutes of sleep on my way here. But I thank you for looking out for my well-being.” The professor’s dimple sticking out on her clear, slightly tanned face as she pushed up the spectacles which were making its way down sneakily on her nose bridge.

“So that’s the dimple she mentioned.” Yena mumbled to herself, while staring up intently at the towering professor who was walking alongside her on their way to the curator’s office.

“What do you mean by ‘dimple’, Miss Choi?” Yujin said, curiosity stretched across her face.

“Well, the curator of the museum mentioned a professor that dropped by for a tour. Being cute and rather breathtaking in her own opinion. But it seems pretty rare for her to comment on a person instead of the numerous artworks on display here. Anyways, it seems like we have reached her office. Have fun on your little date with her!” The guard jovially laughed.

Yujin could feel a furious blush creep up her cheek as she tried to stammer out her words, losing her collected nature along the way.

“I think you misunderstand Miss Choi. This is merely another opportunity for me to have a look round the various galleries here since it would be a long time before I get to see these artwork.”

“Or do you mean admire another artwork in the name of the curator of Palazzo Vecchio.” Yena said, wiggling her brown eyebrows.

“Well, in my opinion- “

The door leading to the curator’s office suddenly opened.

“Guard Choi, what’s this ruckus right outside of my doorstep? Oh, Miss Ahn Yujin, you seem to have come right on time.” The curator extended a slender hand out for the professor who was left staring mindlessly, staring at the artwork in front of her.

And with that, the guard gave a playful nudge on the professor’s back with her baton and stepped back innocently.

Fortunately for Yujin, the pecan loafers held her steady as she held out a hand to shake the curator’s hand.

“Buona Sera, it is such a pleasure to meet you once again, Miss Curator.” Yujin said smartly as she heard the guard walk away, howling with laughter down the winding gallery.

“Well, Miss Ahn Yujin, kindly ignore Miss Choi’s behaviour for she tends to carry herself away at times. Also, do mind if you drop the formalities. We have met before so I think it’ll be safe for you to call me Kim Minjoo, or Minjoo to be simple.”

“Can’t I just call you my artwork that I would examine all over and display proudly for everyone to see.” Yujin thought as she opened to speak.

“To make it fair, I think it would be certainly fine for you to call me Yujin, Minjoo.” The professor slid her hand out of the now loosened grasp of the curator as she adjusted her glasses which were making its way down on her nose bridge again.

“I think that settles it then. Would you like to proceed on with your evening tour, Yujin?”

“Yes, please. Lead the way, Miss Kim Minjoo and tell me more about the fascinating history behind these paintings and sculptures.”

“And do mind if you can tell me more about yourself along the way, Miss Kim Minjoo.” Yujin said, her heart skipping a beat when the curator smiled softly at her response.

And with that, the professor and the curator walked down the Salone dei Cinquecento or better known as ‘Hallway of the Five Hundred’.

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8.15 P.M. 14 June 2020

“Well, what we have here are two new death masks, donated to us by an anonymous stakeholder. We only received a note stating that the death masks are to be displayed alongside something we are to receive a few days later. And with that, the managing team has also received a book that you see right in front of us here, a few days later. Or in my opinion, the journal of one of the owners of the death mask.”

“A journal, you say? How intriguing?” Yujin cut Minjoo’s words suddenly, to which she responded.

“Yes, but it seems to have been perfectly preserved by whichever generation of family that held it. But the content seems to be rather interesting. It seems like both owners of the respective death masks have a rather intriguing relationship”

“What do you mean by?” Yujin said, eager to uncover more.

“Well, I can take the book out of its case if you’d want to see more of it. I can tell you more about the contents of the journal too along the way.”

“That would be wonderful indeed, Minjoo. Do you mind if I hold your purse so it wouldn’t get in the way?” The professor said, displaying a dimpled smile along the way as her gentlewoman nature appeared.

The pair blushed in a similar cherry tone on their cheeks as their fingers collided with each other as Minjoo handed her purse over to Yujin.

“Thank you.” The curator whispered softly as she proceeded to slid over a pair of surgical gloves on her slender fingers.

A click was heard as the Minjoo did an iris scanner check after she typed in the passcode into a hidden panel, beside the glass case holding the book which was settled stiffly on a metal stand.

“Mind if you slip on the pair of gloves I gave you earlier cause I don’t think two hands are enough to hold a book and two death masks.”

“And I don’t think two hands are enough to hold my heart which is dropping with each and every passing second over this breathtaking artwork right in front of me. Even the Mona Lisa down at the Louvre Museum could not even compare to her beauty.” Yujin thought silently.

Yujin gave a warm smile in response and slung the purse on her shoulder, and adjusted her glasses perched on her nose and took out the plastic gloves from one of the pockets in her overcoat.

She then received the ancient journal from Minjoo to which she was surprised at the mere weight of the book which almost felt like a feather in her hand despite it having a leatherback and rough outer appearance.

“Wow, how light is this book exactly, Minjoo?”

“It’s pretty heavy though at roughly three and a half kilograms. You must work out a lot for it to feel rather light to you.” Minjoo’s eyebrows raised in question.

“Oh. It’s just a couple of laps around the swimming pool back at Harvard and the occasional jog every now and then. It’s not that much. But it does keep my rather voracious appetite in check. Say, mind if you can recommend me plenty of restaurants I can dine in and with a rather magnificent scenery.” Yujin replied curtly.

Minjoo then moved on to unlock the other case which contained the two death masks settled comfortably on two velvet cushions, separately.

“Well, I do have plenty in mind. And maybe you can enjoy your food with this view right in front of you, right now.” She replied in response to Yujin’s question.

“Oh, I would love that, Signora Kim.” Yujin replied cheekily.

“I see you’re well adapting with the language here, Signora Ahn.” Minjoo laughed heartily in return while proceeding to remove the two masks.

“So these two masks you see right in front of you are linked to the journal you are holding in your hands right now. Do you understand what the title translates to?”

“It says ‘Mi Manchi’ and I can roughly say it means ‘I miss you’.” Yujin said looking up through her horn rimmed glasses, rather curiously at the curator who was wearing a rather proud smile.

“Bingo. As expected from a professor of the history of art.”

“But who is the person that the author of the journal is missing?”

“Well, you might want to add another question, ‘What’ too in your question since the author didn’t seem to mention just a person in her entries. And to add a bit more fuel to your fire of curiosity, the two death masks sent to us are of two rather beautiful women, which is considered to be divine during that era, which has been noted to be of the Late Middle Ages. So can you perhaps draw any conclusion from that, Professor Ahn?”

“Well, I’m not really sure but maybe they were lovers but I hadn’t read the words in the journal so maybe, it would better explain the title and of who, what or even where the author missed to be in. It could even be a moment, ‘when’ the author missed something or ‘how’ she missed that something. But do take the lead in telling me more about this history.”

“I’ll get there soon once I get the table out.”

“What table?” Yujin said curiously as she watched Minjoo press a part of the wall and a little handle popped out of the wall, in which Minjoo pulled upon and twisted to present a simple glossy, mahogany table.

“The hell? That’s pretty cool.”

“For someone teaching the history of art, you don’t seem to be well versed in advanced technology nowadays.”

“Oh no no. It’s just that other museums I’ve visited, the curators would usually get a foldable table hidden in those broom closets.”

“Well, I think these museums that you have visited may have to step up their game. Anyways, I think you can set these masks and the book down. And I can begin with the journal entries. I’m afraid it might be till midnight till we go through a few notable entries in this journal and a few of my own personal favourites too. Are you fine with that, Yujin?” Minjoo looked at the professor suddenly which caused Yujin to look away, with a slight reddish tint evident on her cheeks for Yujin swore her eyes had been blessed by a real-life painting that had stepped out of its frame to manifest itself into the name of Kim Minjoo.

“I would love to stay with you every second, minute, hour and day with you. But only if my cowardly heart can choose to confess their yearning feelings to you.” Yujin said inwardly.

“Certainly. It will be fine with me. You may proceed with the story.”

“Alright, then. Do keep your ears open for I won’t repeat what I said again.”

And with that, the curator of Palazzo Vecchio began to flawlessly translate the Italian words of the first entry written into one of the numerous parchments blinded tightly to the spine of the rough, leatherback journal into English for the Professor of History of Art.

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Mi Manchi

Property of Valentina

1 September 1280

To start off this magnificent book that my parents have gifted me with for my fourteenth birthday, which is indeed today. I will regard this book as something that I will record my feelings or any troubles just like how papa said to do so. Well, I don’t really believe that writing down my feelings could possibly suffice for all my flowing pool of thoughts just like how the clear Arno river flows. Anyways, mama cooked my favourite dish, risotto al nero di seppia. That dish is just simply marvellous since it melts right in my melt and the slightly salty taste of the sea from the chewy cuttlefish and the black sour squid ink just amplifies its taste.

Anyways, I think that’s enough talk about food. Maybe, I should become a cook when I grow older since papa said that women belong to the kitchen and only the house and men are to go outside and serve the country with their rogue nature and brute strength. I beg to differ because I think mama is able to teach me a lot of things beyond what papa tries to instill in me regarding his negative political views on the opposition party. Anyways, it’s getting late and the ink I have left for the week is down to half a bottle. I’ll perhaps continue when I get a new bottle of ink.

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8.48 P.M. 14 June 2020

“Risotto al nero di seppia? Isn’t that risotto with cuttlefish and squid ink? I had that when I first arrived here in Italy and I think it would certainly be something perfect to have on one’s birthday.” Yujin interrupted abruptly after Minjoo had finished translating the first entry

“Oh, you enjoy it too?”

“Yes. I think the way she described it would be the way I would choose to describe it.” Yujin removed her glasses to wipe a few stray fingerprints on the lenses.

“That’s wonderful to hear since it’s also my favourite dish from my favourite restaurant. Maybe, perhaps after we have gone through this journal we can grab a bite of it. How about that?”

“That would be lovely to have, Signora Kim. Do continue on, please.”

“You’d never stop with the ‘Signora’, won’t you Professor Ahn? Anyways, I’ll get on it.”

And with that, Kim Minjoo continued narrating the words of the various journal entries into a sweet lullaby for Ahn Yujin.

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8 September 1280

I got a fresh new bottle of ink and obviously the first I’ll do is write about my feelings. Anyways, mama had told me to welcome our new neighbours with a fruit basket just yesterday. And, I could have sworn someone even more beautiful than what those ancient Greek people would have described their ‘Aphrodite’ as, greeted me. She was not that much taller than me but my beauty cannot certainly match with hers. I failed to catch her name though since she just quietly accepted the fruit basket and closed the door in my face. Maybe she is just shy or is she a servant? But either way, I’ll get to know of her name sooner or later before papa comes down to talk business with the new owners of the house next door.

Apart from my encounter from the beautiful girl, the sunset today was something else. I like how the warm amber, orange and bronze hues blended well over the various dark colours of the houses. If only I had hands fast enough to paint this memory of a sunset setting over my hometown. But mama always said to never rush the things that I loved to do or it won’t come out perfectly like how the lumpy dough rises to a thick and fluffy one after a few hours to make a wonderful pita. I think I’ll end this entry since I am getting terribly sleepy and I need to be up early to await the arrival of a few important guests of papa’s.

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21 December 1280

My last entry was nearly a month ago but I was busy with learning about the stars and how the world revolves around the idea of physics, maths and science. I hate physics as much as I hate papa. They both enforce laws that I have to strictly follow to give an expected outcome with no room for any other suggestions or any other outcomes. I very much prefer the arts for I have much more freedom in expressing my thoughts and feelings there and there would be no boundaries to limit my freedom in it.

Anyways, these thoughts aside, I finally learnt the name of the girl that I had handed the basket of fruits over. Her name is Bella but she didn’t tell me her surname as what most people do here. She must be really a person from another town as from the rumours said about her family. But never mind that now, I think it would be best for me to respect her decision of not revealing her surname. I don’t think a surname defines who one is just as how my surname is. I know how much power it carries and how much more it would carry if I was a boy. But too bad for papa, I suppose. I don’t know if it should be good for him that he has no male offspring to continue his tyrannical rules.

Back to Bella.

Her name is really something. It’s like something that screams freedom just as how the seemingly endless clear blue skies screams no boundaries. Or even better it’s like how the translucent aegean Arno river flows into the ocean blue of the Ligurian sea which stretches on for miles beyond what my eyes can see. Apart from getting to know her name, I found out that she enjoys risotto al nero di seppia. It’s pretty rare to find someone else who enjoys it with much gusto as I do. I should introduce her to my mom’s recipe for it and she would surely enjoy it. The night is slowly seeping into the soulless hue so I think it would be best for me to end this entry and anticipate for better days ahead.

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1 February 1282

It’s the start of the three month long break from the school that papa had signed me into. Papa said that since he had no male offspring, he would bend a bit of the rules and allow female offspring of important figures to go to school but we are to learn from in a building separate from those smelly and rogue boys. It’s not bad in the least for I learn a bit more and expand my knowledge beyond what mama had taught for the past few years. But unfortunately, we weren’t able to bring any of our own personal belongings into our quarters so I had to leave this journal behind. Which brings me to what I wanted to write in my journal.

I met Bella again and it seems like she is wearing a school uniform which bore a rival school’s emblem. The school which she told me she had been enrolled into by her mama after my papa had released the law of allowing female offspring to attend school alongside the males but it is limited only to the upper class. For a humble female like her to be in the upper class, is pretty odd for me since most of the females belonging to the upper class tend to be snobbish and ignorant people just like how boys are generally.

Anyways, other people aside, even though I had just last met Bella about a year ago, she had grown so much. If I could explain it in food terms, it’s like a lumpy dough which had fermented to produce a perfectly round and robust dough, ready to be sprinkled with garnishes to form pizza. Maybe, to put it in simpler terms, in case my self in the future would like to read back on these memories. It would be to say that she had grown maturely. She was a stark contrast to the shy, meek girl that would usually giggle behind her soft hands, which I long to hold but I’m afraid of being called out for being that kind. But she had grown into a more outspoken woman who would no longer giggle behind her soft hands. She could laugh freely and I think that is surely such a beautiful development alongside the town I currently reside in.

The town that I am living in to which I am writing in my journal, currently has grown remarkably well. I think I would have to agree with papa just this once, for the town is surely flourishing with more vibrant hues which was certainly different to the grey hues from before I left for school. I do enjoy this change of the atmosphere and I think I could certainly paint it on the canvases that mama had gifted me for the new year.

I think that this is enough ink that I had wasted on this parchment and I think I’ll go to sleep now.

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31 April 1282

It’s the end of my three month long break but I don’t seem to feel an ounce of sadness. Maybe there is a pinch but I’ll most likely feel it’s full blown effect tomorrow on the carriage ride to the school. Anyways, I just saw a bright shooting star alongside Bella. It was nice having to progress from holding on each other’s pinky fingers to fully slipping our hands into each other. If I must truly admit, I feel a strange fluttering feeling in my stomach which seems funny for I know mama’s food never does upset my stomach but when her soft hands seemed to fit perfectly against my calloused ones it does seem to affect my stomach quite strangely. It’s like how I wake up to a mixture of a warm breezy days, to days in which the sombre grey clouds seem to sprinkle water on the dry lands and the bleak stormy days which cause the banks on the sides of the Arno river to be overflowed with the murky waters.

About the shooting star, Bella immediately told me that we should make a wish for what we truly want to happen in our life and we mustn't share it, just to keep it deep within the darkest pits of our heart. I said it silently with my heart screaming for the wish to come true amidst our wild breaths against each other underneath the warm blanket of the night sky draping over us as we laid down in the sparse backyard at my house. I wouldn’t write it here for I would certainly want my wish to be granted but I think that my wish would certainly be granted every day of my life after we have both finished our last years in school. Unless something unfortunate goes between us or the surroundings we live in to which I sincerely hope would not ruin what we have right now. But I just cling onto the hope since there is so much political tension going on between provinces and I don’t know when it would all end or whether it would even end at all.

Even papa is feeling the burden of it with him going home every few days, intoxicated with wine. Fortunately he doesn't get physical like how my other friend’s papa does. Papa just ends up sleeping his drunken state away till the rooster rises to call for the start of a new day. But anyways, thoughts aside, I should get ready for bed and maybe if I’m lucky enough I can watch another sun rise with Bella before we go our separate ways to school.

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28 February 1283

I’ve been trying to search for this journal for days after I returned but it seemed like I found it here in the attic instead of the hidden crook in my bedroom. I think I’ll just brush it aside as my own self wanting to move to a little more secure place. But I wonder why I didn't bother moving my paintings since they are precious to me too? But never mind that now, I have this journal safe and sound with me and I want to recount all my pent up feelings I felt regarding Bella.

Firstly, I think that I had been feeling for Bella from when I first met her through presenting with a fruit basket on that very afternoon to the summers we spent together where she would lay herself down on the blanket whilst relearning what her school had taught her as I painted her silhouette against the empty white canvas. After, picking up that paintbrush that Ma had gifted me last year. The empty white canvas soon filled itself with a myriad of colours ranging from different shades of amber, bronze and other pastel hues in which I think suits her very much. With every of the paintbrush, my love for her slowly built up as the clouds passed by. I didn't bother drawing in her face or the details of her dress but I just left her silhouette white. Just like how white represents purity, I think she certainly represents that along with her name which she revealed to me was relating to freedom and it somehow links to purity I suppose. But never mind that now, maybe when I’ll grow older. I’ll fill in the details of Bella’s silhouette so that the memory of her would never leave my mind and I could relive it as much as I want. Just like mama said to write it on the clouds so it won’t disappear. So as no matter the weather or how the clouds move by, I’ll vow to relive the memories I had with her.

I think if my later self were to read this and wonder why am I writing this down in such a pitiable tone is due to Bella. She’s getting married off to some unknown guy. I suppose a rich one since all upper class families tend to marry within their own classes only. But she wasn't so happy about it and I think my heart mirrored her agonizing expressions but I think my heart shattered even more into those sharp pieces when I told her it would be best for her to proceed on with the marriage. Especially with the difficult times we were both going through, it would be better for her to get married off to a financially stable person and a respectable one from what I heard from her. I don’t know whether it was just my eyes playing tricks on me but she seemed to have a sense of desolate longing for someone.

But I’m worried if I end falling deeper into the swirling pool of madness over Bella. Not even the stormy seasons in which the great Arno rivers overflow and flood our banks, swirling the numerous belongings we have, into it and away into the unknown, could possibly compare with my feelings for Bella. Truth be told, I’m scared for my future and most importantly hers. If anyone ends up finding this journal, I know very well I will suffer the consequences for not following the unspoken law. For committing a grave mistake. But in my sincere opinion, I believe this is like a beautiful mistake. Why should I even fear against going against the rules? If only the world around me was like a canvas. Whatever mistakes that we make on a canvas would be viewed as a beautiful mistake. To be honest, we could just let the mistake stay and leave as it is to be for nothing was made perfect. Not even Bella was created perfect or even mama. The world was never perfect either. I’m not sure if other people do this, but if I were to commit one mistake on my canvas, I’d paint over it. With white. Since I am free from the shackles of the expectations of society. It’s only till I paint it with a myriad of colours then am I considered someone who is tainted with mistakes and deemed to be punished severely for my actions.

Well, if anyone ever finds this journal, I hope that Bella would be able to know that I thank her for being my muse against the numerous paintings I had done. I hope that she would settle in with someone she truly loves and I sincerely know that it would never be me even given the circumstances given to us.

And to end this off, I would like to recount another bedtime story my mother had told me. Well, it was more of a legend but it was about how lovers that die on the same day, no matter the harsh circumstances, with their hearts still longing deeply for each other till their last breath of life are true soulmates. I used to think it was completely something that was just made for a bedtime story to entertain the kids but now, there is a glimmer of hope within me that there would be indeed someone out there who is my true soulmate and I hope that someone is her.

Bella.

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10.00 P.M. 14 June 2020

“Hold up, this isn’t some kind of normal journal entry of what life would have been like in the past. I mean there are snippets of it but it’s like a whole one sided love tragedy being written by an earlier version of an Italian female Shakespeare.” Professor Ahn spoke aloud after Minjoo ended another entry from Valentina.

‘Well, I suppose it would be a given especially with our now dead owner being a teenage girl that happens to like another teenage girl in the past. And mind you, liking someone else of the same gender in the past during the era in which it was written by the owner of the journal. It was deeply frowned upon. And from what I could gather, it seems like our dead owner is part of the upper class and a very important one at that too. So I suppose you could at least extend a bit of your empathy to her. Liking a girl in an era in which this deeply frowned upon could get you thrown out of the state or province you were in. Or even worse get you murdered without any hesitation.”

“Wait, what do you mean by? Anyways, if I could recall a quote that the owner had written. It was something along the lines of ‘write it on the clouds so it…”

“...won't disappear?”

“Yes. Yes. But it’s very peculiar for I have never heard anyone use it aside from my mom. But I think what’s fascinating is how she used the ideas of clouds since you know how clouds tend to move along swaying along with the warm breeze.” Yujin suddenly lit up.

“I do understand, but your point is?” Minjoo stared on with confusion laced in her expression.

“Well, I’m trying to say that it would eventually disappear as clouds do. It’ll change or morph into smaller loads or even larger ones to form a stormy season. So eventually she thinks that her feelings would eventually fade away as clouds do.” Yujin said as she tried to connect the dots.

“But I beg to differ for the later entries would be a stark contrast to what you have just told me.”

‘Wait, what do you mean by? So you’re telling me this isn’t the last of her heartbreaking story?” Yujin cocked her head to the side in confusion, her glasses lopping off sideways

“Well, I’ll proceed on if you want to know more about the story of this wonderful painter.”

“Then, do proceed on with this intriguing story, Signora Kim.” Yujin said.

“Very well.” And with that Kim Minjoo proceeded to translate the rest of the entries for Ahn Yujin to listen patiently to.

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30 March 1284

I’ve finally graduated from that posh school with those snobby kids with the exception of Ilaria who in my opinion shouldn’t be studying in such a school like this for it limits her freedom in the arts. But never mind that for we have both graduated and we are free to pursue whichever education pathway we want. I overheard papa talking to a few of his subordinates about having to send me somewhere. To where, I’ll just leave it for the future to decide. Anyways, Bella has just told me that she is getting married to her fiancé next year so there will be plenty of preparations to be done. But she is still having that same sombre expression. I wish to ask her what is troubling her so deeply to the point that it is affecting me too. But I’m afraid I am too much of a coward to reveal my own true feelings that way too. So I offered a little respite to Bella. I asked her to become my muse so that she could take herself a few paintings to her new house as something she could reminisce about the past she had here in her old town. To my pleasant surprise, she agreed so willingly and even asked whether we could start today. But I turned her hopes down for my order of new canvases and paint would not be round till next month.

She said it was fine and told me to inform her immediately once it had arrived so we could start immediately. Just for a brief moment, I caught what seemed to be her past cheerful self returning before the news arrived. It was brief but I certainly wished once again that I had a memory that could capture this very moment and paint it on an empty canvas. Maybe, I’ll choose a new set of colours. Perhaps, dandelion yellow and lilac. It suits her very much. I think I’ll add in a few streaks of sky blue along her silhouette. It’s calming and I hope it would calm her nerves down as she could reminisce about the days when the Arno river would be filled with clear teal water especially after a particularly stormy season.

My ink is slowly running out so I would like to write one last wish for mama. I hope she will recover from her latest bout of flu. She’s been falling ill lately and papa had ordered the best doctor from the capital to come down to check on her and he had prescribed her with plenty of rest and a dose of herbs. I do hope she’ll recover quickly so that I can show her my new paintings. Only her aside from Bella are allowed to see my paintings. It’s stored within the secret door at the back of my cupboard in which I would like to call my safe haven. There’s a little window at the side so it won’t be a hassle to light up a new candle every now and then in the wee hours of the morning.

Papa never does acknowledge my work and calls them useless pieces of work that have no complete meaning in which they deserved to be thrown to the lower class to be used as their beds. I would love to recall the time where he disposed of a few of my works after he discovered them right under my bed.

Fortunately, at that time I only knew about the secret space so I could transfer a majority of my works and I was in the midst of transferring the last few canvases. I would truly love to describe the immense sadness I felt that day but I’ve long forgotten it for I have gotten over it. But I'll try to recall in my next entry after the new bottle of ink arrives next week.

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14 June 1284

I don’t know how to describe this feeling. It just felt as if mama had cooked up my favourite risotto al nero di seppia and allowed me to enjoy it beside the window. It’s just strange but I really enjoyed it. I wish to have it replayed all over again.

But I cannot still get over the fact that the very person I had admired and showered with all my love with had finally reciprocated my feelings through a simple kiss on my lips. I had told Bella to look at my current painting of her and she had just kissed me right there.

She even told me how she slowly fell for me through the years we were courteous neighbours in the morning and the countless nights at night where we watched the night sky evolve in front of our very eyes. I think I can finally fill up that white empty silhouette of Bella with yellow, lilac, amber and red for my deep burning passion to pursue this relationship.

But I’m afraid I might have to cover it up with white again. I’m going to lose her again because she would go away to her new fiancé’s house for the rest of her life. So it was the first and last kiss we would share as something forbidden and raw. There were no black barriers as us being women.

I understand that the pastor down at the local church preaches about loving human beings but he never once said that we are limited to liking someone of the opposite gender. I know very much that papa would never approve of such a behaviour and even a hint of it would get me thrown out.

But I think I'll be willing to overcome the restraining cuffs, the society has put on me. Just let me enjoy this little white respite I have with Bella.

Allow me to fill up that empty silhouette with various colours of different shades and hues for which I have no names for but I deeply understand within the deepest pits of my heart.

Please, even if I have to do numerous deeds just to clear up this sin.

Please allow me to cherish this moment I have with B-

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10.30 P.M. 14 June 2020

“Wait. What happened to Valentina?” The Professor asked, her dark eyebrows furrowing above her horn rimmed glasses.

“Well, it appears that someone invaded her room hence preventing her from further writing down her thoughts. I mean it’s pretty evident from this huge black blotch of ink that had covered the bottom page and what I can presume as Bella’s name.”

“So what truly happened in her room then?” Yujin’s eyebrows furrowing up by a large margin that the curator was afraid would disappear into her scalp.

“Well, I’ve found plenty of records something like a newspaper back in their days and it seems like the clan that Valentina belonged to was a highly powerful one. And it seemed like her father to which I could not find direct records of his actual name but he was addressed formally as Signor Cristoforo of the Alfonso clan. The clan was really powerful to the extent that they have infiltrated numerous government positions hence allowing them access to the numerous vaults filled with the towns riches. Hence, this explains Valentina being sent to a posh school as stated in her journal entries. Also, she has stated about her papa being strict and wanting her to uphold her clan’s name.”

“So what does the power of the Alfonso clan have to link to the end of the entries?” Yujin asked.

“Well, I’m getting there. As you understand how in the history of practically anything. Humans are always greedy and they will do anything within their nature to get what they want.”

“So you’re telling me that Valentina was murdered-“

“By her father. Signor Cristoforo. It’s really heartbreaking indeed. Being the only and last standing name of the Alfonso clan who was murdered by her father who just wanted to merely protect his own identity and was afraid of giving birth to rumours of raising a child that grew up to like someone of the same gender. It would seem ironic for him to raise a child that grew up as a homoual while he himself preached against homouality. And to amplify this loss, Bella had been found hanging dead in her room facing a window which faced Alfonso's backyard. I can only presume it as her choosing to die rather than getting married to her new fiancé. It was interesting to note that the so-called detectives during then pronounced her as dead roughly within the same time frame on the very night that Valentina was murdered brutally by her father. There was no note left but there was simply a painting found underneath her floorboard in which the clear outlines of what seems to be a previously filled painting had another layer of paint added to the empty white silhouette in the middle. It seems like Valentina had finally filled up the empty white silhouette of her longing for Bella for her feelings had been reciprocated.”

“Wait, then what about the death masks?”

“It was Valentina’s mother who wished to honour her daughter’ death and she wished to have a remembrance of her daughter's face. As for Bella’s death mask, I suppose the same went for her parents. But one thing to note was that unlike people who usually had death masks carved out, neither of them left a message behind for people to remember them by.”

“That’s pretty intriguing. Maybe perhaps it’s hidden in the death mask? Especially since it is made out of plaster, it would possibly be able to encase like a message in the least. Or maybe there’s like a carving in the back of the mask. It’s pretty flat right?”

“Well, whatever methods you have thought about. Rest be assured, our team has tried to find one simple word or message. But it turned up empty.” The curator stated as she lifted the book off the table.

“Hold up. There’s plenty of references where she said that Minjoo’s silhouette is often left white. And if you were to look at another meaning of what white portrays, it usually means emptiness. Maybe, perhaps within those paintings lay her feelings that she wished to tell before she painted it white over. By painting it white, in a way, she wants to cover up her mistake. The beautiful mistake of choosing to fall in love with Bella. She could have just simply written her messages and just painted over it. Furthermore, she said about how her journal was not at the place she expected it to be so she could have suspected someone knew about her feelings for Bella.” The professor said, trying to connect the dots as she helped Minjoo return the journal and the death masks back to its resting place.

Yujin added in, “Furthermore, you mentioned a painting in which Valentina had painted over and it was the only one she had painted over. This would allow me to believe that she may have ‘tainted’ the white silhouette of the other paintings with her messages and she chooses to further paint over it with white to show that she wants to be free from the shackles of the society’s expectations of her. It was the only painting that she painted with real colours instead of written words was she able to truly declare her forbidden love for Bella.”

“Makes sense. I think I could follow up with the team in charge of the restoration of paintings and have them further examine the paintings. Anyways, it’s getting pretty late so could I suggest having a rather late supper down at the cafe round the corner. And they serve the best risotto al nero di seppia, round here.” Minjoo said while winking knowingly.

Throwing their used gloves in the trash can, they both made their way back to where they left to begin the evening tour.

“Surely, it would be a pleasure to have you bring me to a place to fill up my empty stomach. Especially with using my brain to connect the dots, it has made me extremely hungry. Signora Kim.” Yujin chuckled to herself.

“Alright, Signora Ahn. Anyways, mind if you give plenty of time to compose an email for the team for them to examine the paintings before we let it out for the public to see. Would you like to see the painting for yourself, Yujin?”

“As much as I’d love to, I feel like it could be reserved for another day.” The professors said as she pushed up her glasses which were creeping its way down her nose bridge.

“Another day to allow me to see your beautiful face once again. Maybe, I should convert my citizenship and start teaching the history of art here. Never mind the language if Miss Kim would be my Italian language tutor.” Yujin silently thought to herself.

Finally, once everything was cleared and the pair had collected their coats to make their way out into the streets lining the museum. But not without the cheerful remarks from Yena who was still up, guarding the museum diligently.

“Have fun on your date, Curator Kim. It’s nice to see you going out and having fun instead of being cooped up in that office or home of yours. Mind you, Professor, she’s a little feisty so mind if you approach her with caution. And I’ve got to say you have gotten the most priceless item in this entire museum.” The guard chuckled to herself as she gave a quick swept of the surveillance cameras.

“Seriously, Guard Choi. And Yujin don’t you dare say you agr-“

“I would have to agree with you, Miss Choi on your last sentence. I agree that Curator Kim is indeed the most priceless item in this entire item but I would surely bid my heart if she were to be auctioned.” The professor beamed proudly as she flashed a dimple to Minjoo

And with that, the curator visibly blushed a deep red shade to which the Guard howled at maniacally.

“Well, see you two in the next few weeks to come and I think I’ll leave you two to enjoy your night out. Buona notte, Amiche.” Bowing them out from the entrance, they made their way to the cafe where Minjoo claimed had the best risotto al nero di seppia.

Professor Ahn could only nod her head at Minjoo’s words for her cheeks were bulging with the creamy broth.

The location in which Minjoo had chosen in the cafe had provided with a fantastic view of the Arno river flowing peacefully amidst the chaos of the night life in the town.

“Oh, Yujin. Look, a shooting star just passed!” The curator exclaimed and Yujin managed to turn her head just right in time to watch the shooting star leave a shimmering trail and disappear behind the towering buildings.

“Quick let’s make a wish, alright.”

Yujin nodded quietly and proceeded to utter her wish in which only she knew and no one else.

Not even us, readers are able to get a glimpse into her mind just this once.

Peeking through her half lidded eyes, she caught another glimpse of Minjoo wishing with her hands clasped together tightly, as the late midnight wind breezed past them.

“Okay. Maybe just this once, I will allow readers into my mind.”

“To whoever created this story of us, I, Miss Ahn Yujin, thank you for allowing me to reunite with my lover. Thank you very much. This is my only wish for you. I know it isn’t a wish but more of an appreciation for you. But I thank you for allowing me to enjoy a timeline with her, my true soulmate, Miss Kim Minjoo”

And with that, the author would like to sign off and tell you that it is never too late for you to paint your dreams. It doesn’t matter if the painting is complete so long you have picked up that paintbrush to paint a single of colour on the empty white canvas. And continue adding plenty of of whichever colour you wish to have on your beautiful mistake. To create a marvellous painting which only you can enjoy

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We have come to the end of The Death Mask. Once again, thank you to the organisers and the readers for this wondefrul Jinjoo Fiesta OS S2. There may be a new sequel so please do bear with the long wait of roughly two months since I have exams:/ but you can formulate theories on why Yujin had decided to say those words in the second last paragraph. Well to fellow readers and new ones alike, I wish a wonderful morning/afternoon or night wherever you are.

 

P.S: I couldn't find the exact original version of it because I saved it on a thumb drive and it somehow got lost in the transfer so I just made amendments to the dates and the places mentioned are actually real and I have taken plenty of references from Dan Brown's book titled The Da Vinci Code :)