She was bleeding.
Yes, as incredulous as it sounds... the painting was indeed bleeding.
Or rather, it might have been blood.
The knife flew out, embedding itself into her chest and stomach. Exactly like it had pierced a real person's chest and stomach, a dark red liquid kept flowing down from the blade, drip-drip-dripping onto the floor.
"Aaaah—"
The woman in the painting suddenly let out a piercing and hysterical scream.
The moment Annan heard that sound, he suddenly experienced an extremely intense headache, mixed with fatigue and irritability... It was as if he had been woken up by the sound of a drill from next door or upstairs after only three hours of sleep.
And it was the kind of drill sound that made one feel their own bed vibrating—perhaps even more intensely.
Annan's vision blurred, his head swimming with a floating dizziness.
But there was no sign of disgust on Annan's face, no fear or anger from being attacked...
Just exhilaration.