THE IVORY
England on a bright night...
The city always seems exhilarating, especially on Fridays. Maybe because it's followed by Saturday, and most companies have a day off? Well, perhaps. I'm off on that day too. But even though it's a day off, I always find it difficult to sleep. I thought being a marketing manager would be less busy than sales, but it turns out to be busier.
Every time I lay my head down for a moment, I'm always restless thinking about the activities I've been doing. Although, in reality, those activities have been done and didn't turn out to be a problem the next day. My friend, Miss Vernicol, says I'm just overthinking. Maybe she's right, I've been like this since elementary school.
One by one, I followed her advice. From A to Z, not a single one was missed.
First, watching boring movies. That only lasted for 10 minutes, then I turned off my TV and became even more frustrated.
Second, watching thrilling and complicated movies. It only made me think about solving the complexity of the movie. In the end, it's hard to sleep.
Third, drinking warm milk before bed. Eventually, it just gave me stomach ache at night.
Fourth, having a full stomach. At first, I felt drowsy, but it ended up similar to the third method. The difference is, when I'm in the bathroom, my mind gets filled with even more thoughts and inspirations that keep my head from resting. Even though the poop is out, the thoughts keep lingering and increasing.
Fifth, exercising at night. Well, I signed up for a nearby gym for a month. And it only lasted for a week, my body felt sore and achy. When I'm in pain, I can sleep soundly. The problem is, do I have to be in pain first if I want to sleep well?
Sixth, this is actually the one I dislike the most. Taking sleeping pills. Honestly, it does make me drowsy. The only problem is, it makes me oversleep. Believe me, I feel like a corpse that's temporarily dead for 16 hours. If I use it even once, I might get kicked out of the company.
Seventh, reading novels before bed. I once bought about 6 titles at once. Reading novels does calm me down, but those 6 titles ended in one night. Meaning, I was looking for ways to sleep peacefully and comfortably, but ended up staying awake all night because of the novels. Although I genuinely enjoy every word and language portrayed in the novels.
Eighth, trying to count sheep in my mind. I was skeptical at first, but well, the doubt was right. Counting is related to numbers, and my job also involves numbers. Since I'm an effective and efficient person, instead of counting imaginary sheep, I ended up reflecting on number calculations related to my work.
Ninth. Drinking coffee. This is actually my suggestion. I know it sounds silly, but I've started seeing myself as this anomaly, maybe it can help. Normally, coffee does contain caffeine. Perhaps caffeine works as a calming agent for someone like me, maybe. Well, turns out that's just silly. I stay awake all night and end up with a headache in the morning, so I have to take a day off from work.
Tenth, it's the final suggestion from Miss Vernicol, because she claimed to have run out of ideas. It's walking around the city. That's what I'm doing now.
There's nothing specific really. I feel more like a lost person, despite the fact that I've lived in this city for 20 years. It's just watching street jazz musicians, going to the bookstore to buy another novel, or grabbing fast food if I feel like it.
But there is one thing that caught my interest...
Ignacio The Living Art - Unique and Mythical Piece of Art
That writing is stuck on a beautifully carved wooden sign. It led me to turn slightly from the usual fried calamari fast food restaurant I usually go to, into a small alley. A small studio. It's somewhat unfamiliar to me as someone who rarely ventures into the urban area, especially into small alleys like this.
I passed three blocks and found myself facing a wooden door with intricate carvings, identical to the sign I saw earlier. The door opened by itself.
"Oh-oh... is it automatic?" I thought. Usually, the automatic doors I know are in malls. Typically glass doors that open by sliding to the right and left or revolving hinges. But I didn't see any infrared sensors, which are usually visible, on this door.
I pretended to be extremely ignorant and walked in. Oh well, why bother making a fuss about it? Maybe the infrared concept is not publicly displayed, right?
As soon as I entered, I was immediately faced with a staircase leading downstairs. Which means the studio is located underground. Around the staircase, there were only dim yellow wall lights. A calming atmosphere.
Soon, I was greeted in the reception area. The room was quite unique, with only one desk complete with payment options via credit or debit card, one computer, and one receptionist. There were two doors to the right and left. The door to the right was lined with white walls, while the one on the left was lined with golden yellow walls. The two colors on the walls were separated by the desk and the receptionist herself.
The receptionist woman waved her hand like a tour guide. "The right side is for paintings, the left side is for carvings."
She added with an innocent smile, "Please, sir, is there anything I can assist you with?" Her tone was gentle for a face that seemed expressionless. At first, I actually thought she was a statue.
"Ah, I don't really understand... um... maybe it's just a coincidence," I spontaneously came to this place. I scratched my head because I really didn't know why I ended up here.
"Well, then, how about looking at the paintings, sir?" She smiled and waved her hand towards the left. Left from the receptionist's perspective was on my right.
"Well, um... you see, I don't really understand art, actually..."
She stood up.
"The paintings at Studio Ignacio have high artistic value. Each painting is stored in specially bulletproof glass shelves to prevent theft. The paintings sold in this studio have many benefits. Like, for example, difficulty sleeping,"
Due to her friendliness, I entered through the door on the right, which was lined with white walls. The receptionist only escorted me to the front of the door. I walked into the narrow hallway with the same dim yellow lights as when I descended the stairs earlier. The hallway was about ten steps long. However, this hallway was lined with a thick and plush carpet.
"A friendly woman..." I initially thought. But then, "Wait, how does she know that I have trouble sleeping?" I paused for a moment and thought again. Then I realized how silly I was. Well, it's because someone lacking sleep can be seen from the dark circles around their eyes, right? Or maybe it was my somewhat lethargic and foolish way of speaking earlier. It's understandable, I guess.
Upon opening the thick frosted glass door, the studio appeared quite small. Although small, it felt spacious because only five paintings were displayed. Just as the Receptionist Miss mentioned, the paintings were kept inside thick and sturdy glass display cases.
"Good evening, sir!"
A man around his fifties wearing a black tuxedo with a monocle similar to the one used by Mr. Monopoly stood there. The man looked neat and elegant, almost like a highly intellectual millionaire.
"Good evening to you too, sir..." I replied. But I spontaneously turned my gaze towards a woman who was staring at a painting.
"Come here, sir, the painting will choose its buyer on its own!"
The man invited me. The five sturdy glass display cases stood in a row like five pillars in front and leaned against the carpeted wall. Meanwhile, the woman whom I assumed to be a potential buyer was standing in the far right corner.
The displayed paintings were indeed unique and had never been exhibited in an art museum before, as the elegant man described. Although I couldn't confirm it myself.
But after a few seconds of walking, I was captivated by one of them. It was a painting depicting a grand piano complete with a seat and sheet music without a player. The canvas had slightly yellowed, and it matched what the man said, that the painting was around two hundred years old.
The painting itself was quite simple. Just a simple black grand piano, a player's seat, and sheet music. But somehow, it felt like I could hear classical music from the era of Mozart, Beethoven, or Tchaikovsky.
"You can indeed hear the music," he said.
Wow, can he read my mind? Well, in reality, my experience as a salesperson, even as a manager, couldn't accurately guess something like that. But indeed, my colleague once said that the more experience one has, the more they can read the gestures and even the thoughts of customers.
'Seemingly able to hear the music,"'that's how it should be. i correct that sentence on myself.
"How much is this painting?" I immediately got to the point of the discussion. I squinted my eyes and looked at the description on the display case. "Um... The Ivory...?"
"Ah, it's a touch that won't disappoint. The Ivory suits people who have trouble sleeping and often have racing thoughts due to their busy lives. Hang it in your room and don't forget to light a red candle,"
"Huh? A red candle?" I paused for a moment. Well, I might understand that in a dark atmosphere with a candle, a painting like this would radiate its artistic charm. But why a red candle?
"Yes, you can place the red candle anywhere as long as it's still within the same house. Our store's artistic touch has its own 'unique value' that you need to discover. Each person will receive a different impression. But when you are attracted to a particular painting, it means that the painting has indeed chosen you, sir!" the man explained politely and in detail. He even seemed enthusiastic and didn't mind if I asked many questions.
"Unique value? Hm..."
"The Ivory, the touch of Martinez De Ramone's hand in 1888, a Spanish pianist who migrated to England. His career skyrocketed when he flawlessly played various classical music pieces with a 1:1 perfection. He played without any arrangements, just pure perfection. However, towards the end of his life, his fingers weakened, and he lost his tempo in playing the piano. Because of that, he said that the classical music always sounded in his ears, preventing him from sleeping. He had to play the piano to avoid it, but his fingers were no longer strong enough. Instead, he painted a piano that depicted his feelings towards the music he remembered in his head..." The elegant man told a little story.
"A musician who ended up painting? Very unique. So, how much is it?"
"350,000 pounds, with a lifetime guarantee certificate from Ignacio Studio,"
'I knew it would be sky-high!' I furrowed my brow and pondered.
"A lifetime guarantee certificate? What's it for?"
"We will buy back the painting if you ever want to sell it. Of course, the minimum price we offer is 90% of what you bought it for. But you can sell it anytime since our store's prices fluctuate every day. Consider it as an investment; I believe it's worth it, don't you think?"
Truly a salesperson with extensive experience. I shouldn't underestimate this elegant man. I told him to give me a moment to think while I looked at the intriguing details of The Ivory painting once again. Well, I also needed to take some time to think since 350,000 pounds is not a small amount. The elegant man left me and turned to the woman in the right corner, who turned out to be another buyer.
'I want to buy it!' I thought. The longer I looked at it, the stronger my desire to purchase the painting became. Like I mentioned earlier, it was just an ordinary grand piano painting with a yellowed canvas due to its age.
Without hesitation, I proceeded to check out my order. Because the elegant man considered me a senior, I managed to get it for 300,000 pounds only. I paid in full at the reception desk.
"Ah, sir, what you need to understand is to use the red candle once a day. The tolerance limit is only five consecutive mistakes for five days," he said.
The painting was now packed and ready to be delivered to my house.
"Huh? Why is that? Isn't the candle just for decoration?"
"We are sellers of The Living Art, sir! It's a living art that depends on how you take care of them and perceive them! One thing is certain, when the painting chooses you, you won't have any issues with it," the man replied, still full of enthusiasm.
Once again, those words. Well, as long as I won't encounter any problems, it should be enough.
"Ah, I understand, sir," I replied before leaving.
***
Three days after that night, I finally understood. I could sleep soundly. I could understand why it was so expensive.
Living Art is indeed a unique form of art. Following the instructions, I lit the red candle at night. The painting looked incredibly beautiful in my room. Even while sleeping, I dreamt of entering a grand hall with classical musicians displaying their sheet music to the public. While you were sitting in the front row, you could clearly see the details of the musicians' faces. Mozart, Beethoven, and Tchaikovsky, you name it! Every night, this dream felt like a reality. It was as if I had traveled back to the classical era.
Three days turned into a week...
A week felt like four times that, almost like a month...
A month passed in the sixth moon...
My friend noticed the change in my cheerful and energetic expression. I didn't expect that by achieving peaceful sleep every night, my work performance would drastically improve. As a result, I was chosen for a business trip to Germany for a week.
But before that, I had become close with Miss Vernicol, who is now my girlfriend. She had always cared about my issues, helped me, and offered advice. It was only natural for me to start falling in love with her.
The problem was, Miss Vernicol, my senior by two years, eventually developed the same sleep disorder I had experienced a few months ago. She had tried the methods I suggested, but they didn't work for her. Previously, whenever she had the chance to sleep, she would sleep, regardless of whether it was daytime or nighttime, for a long or short period. She believed that sleep could clear her mind and help her focus on work to the maximum.
"What if you stay at my place, my dear? You might be able to save on apartment costs," she suggested.
"Huh? What does that have to do with my sleep disorder?"
I had forgotten to tell her about the painting. I told her that with the red candle, she could enjoy sound sleep with dreams of being in a grand hall with classical musicians.
Initially, she hesitated, but when someone like me, who had struggled with insomnia for years, had a visibly tired face transformed into a better expression, Miss Vernicol had no other choice.
A day after my departure, Miss Vernicol informed me that my suggestion was truly effective. By following everything I had told her, she had experienced dreams of being in a grand hall, listening and witnessing classical musicians. She even video-called me to express how amazing Beethoven's performance of "Kreutzer" was. Miss Vernicol was so enamored with the dream that she intended to experience it every day.
October 12th...
Days passed, and every day she would send me wonderful updates. Except for two days ago, she hadn't contacted me at all. I was worried, but perhaps she was busy? Well, today I decided to see her with my own eyes.
As soon as I arrived from the London airport, picked up my suitcase, I rushed straight home. What triggered my worry even more was the foul smell I detected. It wasn't just that; I even saw flies buzzing near the living room. I quickly went upstairs since Miss Vernicol usually slept on the upper floor. And it was true. I had to cover my nose even when entering.
To my shock, I found my girlfriend, Miss Vernicol, unconscious in a tragic state. Her head was shattered, with thick red sauce splattered on the wall near the painting. The thick red sauce was scattered around the painting, flowing and dripping onto the floor. There were even dried spots on the table near the bedside lamp.
Without hesitation, I reported it to the ambulance and the police.
In a state of confusion, I wandered around until I stepped on something soaked in her blood. It was a note written in the same red ink that flowed on the floor.
"THE MUSIC KEEPS PLAYING IN MY HEAD! HOW CAN I PAINT THE PIANO IF THERE'S NO CANVAS!? MY HEAD IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE!"
I glanced at the dried substance on the bedside lamp. There were about ten drips that had dried. What I thought was wax turned out to be a realization of my foolishness.
I dropped to my knees, crying uncontrollably...
"If only I had explained it clearly..."
ns 15.158.61.54da2
