Shadows. Hick
Chapter 436 Unexpected Fan Moment
Alfie and Una were walking back to the resort, chatting and laughing along the way.
“Huh? Where’s Tilda?”
Una suddenly noticed Tilda wasn’t with them and quickly pulled out her phone to send a text. “Tilda, where’d you go?”
Lost? Fell behind? If it were Una, maybe. But Tilda? No way.
Tilda texted back, “I went to the bathroom. You and Alfie go ahead and have fun. If you get tired, head back to the room and rest. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Una shot back a reply, “Seriously, you went to the bathroom and didn’t say anything? I was gonna wait for you! Geez!”
Tilda responded with a teasing tone, “You silly girl, waiting outside the bathroom for me? I’d be embarrassed even if you weren’t!”
But truth was, Tilda hadn’t gone to the bathroom.
She’d quietly slipped off after they returned to the resort.
She just wanted to give Alfie and Una some space alone.
The two of them were practically glowing, laughing and talking like they were in their own little world. Tilda felt like she’d turned into a human–sized 5–million–watt third wheel, blindingly bright and totally in the way.
Even if they didn’t mind, she sure did.
So, she figured it was better to give them some breathing room and enjoy a little peace and quiet on her own.
As she passed by one of the smaller buildings on the resort grounds, a distinct scent caught her attention.
Even in the middle of January, in the dead of winter, the fragrance hadn’t faded, it had grown even richer and more intense.
“What is this…?”
Tilda felt an odd pull in her chest, something instinctual, and without thinking, she pushed open the door of a red–painted cottage in front of her.
Chapter 436 Unexpected Fan Moment
Inside, row after row of violins were displayed, each one carefully arranged, clearly treasured by the owner.
“Beethoven, Mozart—all rare, one–of–a–kind pieces. Each one named after legendary composers. Easily worth tens of millions, maybe more. And they’re just sitting here? Door wide open, no lock?” she whispered.
Even Tilda was stunned by the sheer trust or audacity of whoever owned this room.
Or maybe it wasn’t audacity.
Maybe it was just unshakable faith in the resort’s security system.
“Who are you?”
A surprised voice came from behind the door.
Tilda turned sharply. It was an older man, hair slicked back, silver with age, no dye to hide the years. The lines at the corners of his eyes spoke of time passed, but his posture remained sharp.
He stood tall, about 6’4", built like a bear in a puffer jacket, insulated pants, and a pair of ice skates slung over his shoulder. His gaze was fierce, there was a quiet power in it, as though he hadn’t lost a single ounce of strength from his younger years. Not someone to take lightly.
“Sorry, I followed the scent of the violin wood. I noticed the door wasn’t closed, and I didn't mean to intrude. I truly apologize,” Tilda said quickly.
She knew she was in the wrong, anyone would mistake her for a thief under these circumstances. She didn’t hesitate to own up and explain.
“Wait… it’s you? Tilda?”
When he got a good look at her face, the man seemed to recognize Tilda.
Tilda looked genuinely confused. “Wait… you know me?”
There was no way Tilda wouldn’t remember someone like this, at least, not someone with that kind of presence.
“I’m Stephen Woodward, Alfie’s uncle. I’m also one of the current shareholders of the Woodward Group. You, on the other hand, are kind of a big deal in Cetherland right now. How could I not know who you are?” the man said.
He chuckled and added, “Besides, I have quite the interest in art myself. I’ve seen the piece that won you the world championship and even some of your earlier work from the X period. Absolutely brilliant stuff. In a way, I suppose you could say I’m a fan. Never thought I’d run into my favorite artist here of all places. What luck, huh? Alfie’s told me a bit about you, too. You’re making waves, Ms. Tilda.”
Stephen’s lighthearted tone instantly cut through the awkward tension.
Tilda finally let herself relax and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Woodward. Honestly, I was worried you’d think I was trying to steal something."
Stephen let out a warm laugh. “With this many priceless violins in one place, you’d think I’d be paranoid, right? But I leave the door unlocked and walk away without worry, that’s how much faith I have in the Woodward Group’s security systems.”
Then his voice turned a bit more amused. “Actually, I’d love to see which clueless thief would dare try stealing from me. Might be entertaining.”
He walked past Tilda like a moving mountain, casual and confident, and picked up one of the violins from the display rack without hesitation.
“If you could smell the wood and recognize it even now, in this weather, then you must know a thing or two about violins. Wanna give it a try?” he said.
“You’re serious? That’s… a limited edition violin.”
Tilda’s eyes widened slightly.
Collectors like this usually didn’t let anyone near their prized instruments, not even themselves. They were meticulously maintained, rarely touched, and certainly not handed over to a stranger on a whim.
After all, when something is this rare, money isn’t the issue, it’s the fact that there’s no replacing it if anything goes wrong. One tiny scratch, and it’s damaged forever.
But Stephen only shrugged. “These were made to be played. If they can’t fulfill that one basic purpose, and just sit here gathering dust, what’s the point? I imagine the luthiers who crafted them, and the violins themselves, would be pretty heartbroken.”
Then he added, smirking, “Of course, that’s assuming you’re confident enough in your skills to handle it. If you’re not… well, then maybe best not to try."