The One Went Up in Flames

Hayden and I walked to the university's art gallery.

From a distance, I saw Bonnie standing in front of the painting, surrounded by Ian and several other faculty members.

He was passionately explaining his so-called creative vision.

"So, I used stippling here to capture the moment when light and shadow merge again, symbolizing hope within despair…"

Every word from his mouth was exactly what I had written in my artist's statement.

The surrounding staff nodded in agreement, their eyes full of approval.

"Not only does Bonnie have talent, but he also has dedication."

"Yes. The thought put in this piece is already beyond most people his age."

My appearance shattered that harmony. I suddenly became the center of attention, and people started murmuring.

"He still has the nerve to show up?"

"Look at his eyes! There is not a hint of remorse."

When Bonnie saw me, he immediately stopped talking. One could see the shock and pain on his face.

"Connor, you're here."

He stepped toward me, his tone heavy.

"I know you're very talented, and you've always wanted a breakthrough with your graduation project, but you can't just copy my work. If you had told me earlier, I could have helped you."

His words sounded sincere, casting himself as a betrayed yet gracious victim.

Ian's eyes were full of disappointment.

"Connor, you may be gifted, but that doesn't mean you can stop working hard and take shortcuts. What's the meaning of this? Have you lost yourself in all the compliments you're given? I remember you said your dream was to hold your own solo exhibition. Are you planning to show a plagiarized painting there?"

He gave me a frustrated look.

"So many prodigies end up wasting their talent because they stop putting in the work. Do you want to become just another cautionary tale of a wasted genius?"

I looked at Bonnie. He stared back at me, the smugness in his eyes completely at odds with his earlier painful expression.

I ignored both of them.

In my previous life, I would have been furious. I would have argued and broken down, desperately trying to prove my innocence.

But this time, I refused to do the same; I wouldn't try to defend myself cluelessly.

Hayden wanted to speak for me, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head.

We left the gallery. Hayden agonized beside me, but I calmed him down. I told him I was fine and made him go back first.

When I returned to the studio, I went over everything again. Suspicion bubbled in me.

I locked every door and window, pulled down the thick curtains, and even used a roll of tape to seal every gap.

Then, I turned to the easel and started to paint.

I worked quickly. Two hours later, the new piece was finished.

I didn't leave the studio at all; I stayed there the entire time to make sure Bonnie had no chance to sneak in and take photos.

Early the next morning, I picked up my phone.

At four in the morning, Bonnie had posted a new update on his feed.

It was a sketch identical to my newest work. The core elements, the way the technique was used, the style itself…

All of it was unmistakably mine.

The caption read, "Pulled an all-nighter painting. It feels like I'm about to drop dead, but I'm satisfied with the result. Good night, world."

Below it was a long list of likes and similar comments.

"You worked so hard!"

"Even geniuses have to grind!"

My frown grew deeper. If no one had gotten into the studio, then what was going on?

Had he installed security cameras here?