Day End

"Do you really pity us? You're an orphan who's risking homelessness in just three years," the voice came again, but this time, Leon only paused briefly before continuing the painting, trying not to look startled.

However, the voice opened a whole new can of worms for him as he worked on the painting.

If the owner of the voice was truly a telepath, as he thought, then that would mean this world wasn't as simple as he had assumed.

"An introduction would be nice too, you know. Also, don't try to dig too deep into my mind—it may not be good for yours," Leon replied, but as a formal thought.

"How… how are you replying to me?"

"From your voice and what you've said so far, I can eliminate the mother, so you must be one of the two daughters. Unless you're a reincarnate, then the baby?" Leon said.

"What's your deal? How can you stay calm when you know someone can read your mind?" the voice asked.

"The younger daughter, then. Learn to act distracted—your frustration is showing on your face… Guess that means you couldn't read further than a few months ago."

"How? Just tell me about my mother. Can she really leave this awful situation?"

"All it takes is a lawyer, and she may even be able to get away with either most of his assets or half of it… Can't believe I'm giving a girl advice on how to ruin a man," Leon said as he began adding the background.

"Do you think she'll do it if I tell her?" the girl asked.

Hearing her, Leon turned away from the painting for a moment, looking at her under the guise of examining the family.

"If you don't want to become hated by both your father and mother, I wouldn't advise it. And don't even think of trying to use your power on her," Leon replied telepathically.

"Okay, that's all. Sir, would you like to see it, though it's not exactly dry yet?" Leon asked as he stood up and dropped his brushes to the side.

"Really?" the big man said as he stood up, pushing the son who had been sitting beside him aside.

To prevent him from also pushing him away, Leon hurriedly turned the canvas to face him.

It was just as promised—a hyper-realistic painting of the family. If one hadn't seen him painting it, they would think it was a photo.

"Excellent!! Smart and talented as well. If I could, I would have taken you as my son," the man said, praising him, but Leon quietly stood aside.

"I thought you'd be happy about such a remark. You know, he's the second richest man in all of Boston."

"If he treats his biological son like this, don't you think I might become a slave in his house?" Leon replied, smiling at her.

"Pfft," she chuckled at his joke, making Leon's smile brighter.

Feeling the family's stares, they both quickly composed themselves and turned their attention away from each other.

"I assume we can't take it home as it is, right?" the mother asked with a stoic expression on her face.

It was clear the woman didn't like the comparison with her son, but what could Leon do? She was the one who had married such a terrible man.

"Yes, ma'am. An extra 30 minutes is all it takes for it to dry, so if you're not in a hurry, you could wait for it and take it away at once, or we can have it delivered to you," Leon replied, gesturing to part of the church field they had transformed into a drying area for the paintings.

"I see. You really thought it all through," the man said with a proud look on his face.