January 8th, 2070
United States, Phoenix, Arizona (Northern District)
A young woman with soft chestnut hair and a slender frame stood before a tall wooden easel, her bangs sweeping neatly over her right cheekbone. Gloved in immaculate white, her fingers danced with a paintbrush across a broad sheet of watercolor paper. The rich hum of an opera aria filled the air from a pair of vintage speakers.
An old Victorian-style office seemed frozen in another time. Each stroke of the brush moved in rhythm with the music. Crimson blended into deep hues as her wrist twisted with grace and precision. Before her bloomed a work of abstract surrealism: a human face fractured into four quadrants, like chambers of a heart, each section awash in different colors—vivid, conflicted, alive.
"L'amour, l'amour, l'amour—ta-dam, tam, taaaam!"
The violin soared, and she laughed softly. Dipping her brush once more into a jar labeled "Lipstick-Infused Pigment," she painted a gentle red curve over the lips of the portrait. Then, leaning forward, she pressed her own lips against the paper, leaving a faint kiss mark—her signature seal.
Turning the painting upright, she signed her name neatly beneath it in flowing cursive:
"Lovely Bants — by Miss Adeline Callaghan."
She slid the painting into a drawer of her white desk and picked up a compact mirror, tilting it to catch the morning light. In her hand, the paintbrush shimmered briefly, morphing into a fluffy blush brush. As she dusted her cheeks with a soft strawberry tint, her eyes wandered across the walls—lined with framed artworks by both legendary and unknown painters. It was less an office, more a personal museum of emotion.
The tall curtains on her left, once drawn tight, now let in a soft Arizona sunlight, painting the room gold.
"Yokumi, play Mozart for me, will you?" she said playfully into the air.
"Got it, Ms.Callaghan~ Now playing 'Rondo Alla Turca' by Mozart!" replied a cheerful female AI voice from the desktop speaker.
As the quick, bright notes of the piano filled the space, Adeline's wrist swayed in rhythm while she brushed her cheeks. When she was done, she leaned back in her chair, kicked lightly against the polished floor, and began to spin herself in circles, giggling like a carefree child in the middle of her elegant Victorian office—a woman of art, solitude, and secrets.