The curator said, “This painting is Mr. Wilheim’s artwork. He usually doesn’t sell his work. Oh, look, here he comes…”

As they were talking, an old man with a white beard walked towards them with a steady and powerful gait, clutching a cane.

Mr. Wilheim was a Medianian that had migrated to Liberty long ago. He was an internationally renowned painter, and his paintings were hard to find.

Ian’s mother, Gillian, had certainly heard of Mr. Wilheim’s thundering name.

In addition to jewelry, bags, and other luxury items, all women of high society would collect works of art by famous artists at home. Otherwise, they would be ridiculed as a parvenu.

However, Mr. Wilheim’s paintings were not something that could be bought with money.

This old man had a strange temperament and was fussy about his buyers.

Gillian thought, ‘If I could buy his painting, wouldn’t I be more respected in my circle?’

In the blink of an eye, the old man with the white beard had arrived in front of them.

The cur