Appraisal

Some of the greatest geniuses of our time might be hiding right under our noses, even in today’s hyperconnected world.

Experts have already described Ferran, who died recently, as everything from a “modern-day Renaissance master” to a “troubled mad genius.”

An underground art gallery was discovered beneath his tiny countryside home, extending into an adjacent hill.

Inside are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of artistic masterpieces, while some rooms contain potentially groundbreaking engineering studies.

Everything was apparently produced by Ferran over several decades of solitary work. Even most of the infrastructure beyond the property’s wine cellar, which serves as the only entrance, was likely built by Ferran himself.

Those who have entered the complex describe being immediately struck by both the collection’s sublime beauty and its eerie, almost otherworldly atmosphere.

Records show that Ferran worked as a junior industrial draftsman at a machinery factory more than six decades ago. He later inherited this rural property along with several houses in the city. After moving to the countryside, he supported himself by renting out the other properties.

This discovery was made by a woman who had just purchased the place and has chosen to remain anonymous to the media. However, collectors, researchers, and even government institutions are already trying to contact her.

Some want to purchase pieces from the collection, while others are seeking access to study Ferran’s work. Local residents have also proposed transforming the site into a museum in hopes of attracting tourism.

The community barely knew Ferran beyond recognizing him as a friendly elderly neighbor. They would occasionally see him buying groceries or ordinary art supplies, unaware of the mastermind living among them.

Only time and further investigation will tell whether this extraordinary discovery was the culmination of an elaborate master plan or merely the product of a lonely, misunderstood genius.

***

News of the underground complex spread around the world overnight.

I had hesitated to contact the authorities, but Laia said it was the right thing to do. I could tell that hiding the discovery troubled her, especially as a lawyer. That convinced me.

Still, I had come here for peace, only to find myself caught in a whirlwind.

A single local government officer came to visit with low expectations, but as soon as he entered the cellar, he freaked out completely.

He called a few specialists, and after they arrived, we passed through the wooden gates to see what lay beyond.

Arguably, the most impressive room was the cellar, but what followed was breathtaking as well.

There were multiple rooms of different sizes and designs built within the hill, connected by old brick tunnels. The larger ones were used to showcase hundreds of artworks ranging across many disciplines, while the smaller ones apparently served as workshops or storage rooms. There was even a bedroom.

The specialists said the craftsmanship was comparable to, if not superior to, that of the greatest Renaissance masters. The sheer number of pieces and range of skills involved made it seem almost impossible for a single person to have created everything.

There were sculptures, paintings, novels, sheet music, old recordings, handmade clocks, blueprints for machines, scientific studies, stained glass, animation flipbooks, and countless other creations no one could immediately process.

But a small office within the complex, filled with notes and documents in the same handwriting, quickly pointed to a single person: Ferran, the property’s previous owner.

However, the works still had to be appraised, their authorship verified, and their possible status as national heritage determined.

As my initial hype wore off, I couldn’t help thinking: This is what a true artist looks like.

I felt small.

Even the smallest sketches lying around the underground rooms made it feel almost insulting that I had ever believed I could be an artist.

Maybe being an artist truly was only for a select few.

Working in budget control had probably been the right choice after all. I had wasted years naively trying to make it big as a mangaka.

The memory of uploading my art online only to find silence and indifference, and of contacting publishers who promised to get back to me but never did, made my anxiety skyrocket.

I have a good job that suits my skills. It pays well enough to finance my whims. The company even lets me work remotely now, without anyone there to judge me.

I don’t hate it.

“Nuria! The appraisers are here,” Laia called from the front door.

She had been staying with me for the past few days to help me get through the storm. I had also taken time off from work to deal with everything.

I opened my eyes to the dark, empty bedroom, took a deep breath, and sighed. I got up from my new futon on the wooden floor.

“Okay, I’m coming.” I approached Laia.

“Just so you know, our appraisers will receive a commission if you decide to sell anything.” She was dressed like a lawyer.

I was wearing an oversized orange otter-themed hoodie and black track pants.

“The appraisers sent by the government and potential buyers will probably try to drive the price down, so ours will make sure you get a fair price,” Laia continued, straightening her clothes before greeting the visitors.

“I didn’t bring anything formal.”

“Don’t worry. You’re the owner. They’ll have to adapt.”

I hated this kind of dynamic.

Laia looked at me with concern. I must have looked miserable.

“Hey, Nuria.”

“Yes?”

“I get that this isn’t the peace you wanted, but it could be a great opportunity for you.” Laia smiled at me with unshakable confidence. “I’ve got your back, so don’t worry.”

What did I ever do to deserve such a reliable friend?

I had first hired her to help me buy the house, and now she was helping me deal with all this chaos. She was in work mode now. This was probably the face of Laia the lawyer. She would also earn a sizable commission for helping me with the treasure.

But despite all that, I knew who she was.

Her smile reminded me that before anything else, she was my friend. That thought brought me peace.

“Laia,” I said carefully. “I don’t feel like I should be the one making the decisions here. Maybe you should just take care of everything.”

Laia laughed.

“Don’t be silly. This is yours, not mine,” she said.

“I haven’t done anything to deserve any of this. You handled almost everything during the purchase. You were even the one who discovered the cellar.” I gripped the hem of my hoodie. “This should all be yours.”

Laia’s expression turned serious.

“Look at me, Nuria.”

I forced myself to meet her eyes.

“This is your home. You choose what to do with it. Got it?” Laia looked me straight, but I struggled to hold eye contact . “Worst-case scenario, the government will have to buy this place from you, and you’ll have more than enough money to live somewhere much better.”

My gaze dropped to the floor.

“After everything you’ve been through, you basically won the lottery and became a billionaire. And I’m genuinely happy for you.” Laia smiled warmly. “I won’t take what’s yours. Please don’t take that away from me either.”

I looked back at her, tearing up.

“Hey! No getting emotional now!” Laia grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “The appraisers are coming, and you’re the eccentric billionaire dressed like an otter. Don’t let them forget this is your home they’re invading.”

By the time the tears spilled down my cheeks, they had become tears of laughter. I could certainly role-play as Laia’s eccentric billionaire.

“That’s better.”

Three cars and a small truck pulled up outside the house, and Laia immediately went to greet the appraisers.

As they entered, I saw them flinch at the anime figures on the table, then at me wearing my otter hoodie like a dress. I hadn’t brought a hairbrush, so my hair was probably a mess too. I suddenly felt painfully self-conscious.

It was as if they saw me as an intruder in Ferran’s sanctuary.

I waved at them awkwardly.

“This is Nuria. She’s the legal owner of this place and everything inside it,” Laia said without any shame.

Their expressions changed immediately.

They greeted me enthusiastically and smiled politely, trying to keep their composure whenever I didn’t respond with the formality they expected.

When we entered the cellar, I actually began having fun. Some tried to chat with me to get on my good side, and I would shamelessly say something atrocious.

“You know, I think these sculptures are basically the same as my anime figures back there.”

I watched their faces twist as they fought not to say anything that might offend me.

Yet I wasn’t entirely joking. Part of me believed what I was saying.

After a while, though, they became overprotective whenever I entered a messier room, afraid I would damage or alter Ferran’s work.

It made sense. I didn’t trust myself around the artwork either, and they were the experts. Still, I felt treated like a toddler with filthy hands.

While the appraisers carefully photographed everything in the cellar, I wandered along the complex’s paths with my phone’s flashlight.

I found a brick-walled room with two connected desks, a single chair, several lamps, and handmade books. Wooden shelves were filled with small clay sculptures, most about the size of one-seventh-scale figurines.

Clay residue and tools lay across one desk. The other was much cleaner, aside from a few ink stains.

One lamp had a switch. Probably not a work of art anyone would get mad at me for touching.

To my surprise, it turned on immediately.

Under the warm light, I recognized some of the clay figures.

They depicted the same characters as the larger sculptures, but in different poses and costumes, each showing another side of them.

Each figure had a name written on its base.

The woman with the net was named Alberta.

Seven sculptures portrayed her at different moments:

On her knees, crying in despair; shouting like she was leading a war cry; sitting exhausted, almost defeated; smiling softly in a rare moment of vulnerability, among others.

I also noticed papers scattered around, filled with notes about his characters.

These weren’t just random works of art. Ferran was creating a story. Maybe even a whole world.

I looked around in excitement.

I moved into the next chamber, where unframed sketches and paintings were nailed at different heights along a long, tall brick wall. A skylight, probably hidden somewhere on the hill above, let in natural light.

From the most sublime painting to the messiest sketch, I understood.

Every painting was a moment; every sketch was a concept.

I immediately started looking for her.

Like the other characters, Alberta appeared in several breathtaking scenes. They reminded me of how I illustrated my favorite moments long before writing them into my stories.

Each painting had a date written in one corner, but none included the year.

There was even concept art for her clothes, net, and hairstyle. Together, the designs revealed that she was a fisherwoman who led a tribe of nomads.

At last, one painting sent a shiver through me.

It showed Alberta at sunset, wielding her net with both feet planted on the surface of the sea. Above her, the sky was dark purple and full of stars, like a nebula.

The date matched the day we discovered the cellar. Two days ago.

My blood ran cold.

I looked around. I had to see whether any of the other paintings were dated today.

“Here you are, Nuria!” Laia walked in. Her energy startled me.

“Laia! You won’t believe this!”

“What is it?”

“This place... Maybe Ferran truly was a genius.”

“I didn’t think there was any doubt about that.”

“I mean... look!” I pointed at the paintings. “These aren’t just random paintings. They’re a whole universe of intertwining stories!”

Laia looked more closely. She recognized some of the characters from the entrance.

“Oh? That’s interesting.” She walked around, noticing how the different works connected

“And that’s not all. Help me find any paintings with today’s date.”

Laia searched with me for a while as she told me about her conversation with the appraisers.

The worldwide attention Ferran’s work had attracted, combined with its outstanding quality, made the entire collection extraordinarily valuable.

By selling just the sculptures at the entrance to the right buyers, I could probably live in luxury for the rest of my life.

Then we found it.

A painting with today’s date.

It showed a large man holding a hammer in a bright field of sunflowers, facing distant, snow-covered mountains beneath a cloudy sky. Streaks of sunlight crossed the scene.

I was shaking with excitement. I didn’t care about what Laia had just told me. I had to go back to the cellar.

“Come, Laia! Quick!”

Laia followed closely.

When we reached the cellar, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The appraisers were all still in the first room. One stood on a ladder, carefully angling one of the mirrors to get a clearer view of the stained-glass ceiling.

I shook.

“Hey... what are you doing?” I asked in an unsteady voice.

“Hm? I’m studying these patterns.” She didn’t even look back at me.

“No... I mean... you’re moving that mirror.”

“So?”

My blood boiled.

“Laia?” I said slowly.

“Yes Nuria?” she asked, sounding almost afraid.

“I want everyone to leave at once.”

Every appraiser turned toward me.

“W-what did you say, Miss Nuria?”

“Get out. NOW!”

“Wait, we can’t leave yet.” Another appraiser approached me, looking nervous.

“I won’t let any of you keep altering Ferran’s work. Leave my home at once.”

“But we’ve just started.”

Laia didn’t quite understand, but she stepped in anyway.

“All right, everyone. You heard Nuria.”

“Miss Laia, wait—”

“The owner considers your presence a threat to her property. If you refuse to leave, we may need to take legal action.”

Laia walked them to their cars while I sat alone surrounded by the altered patterns of colored light, heartbroken.

It took Laia a moment to return.

“Hey, are you alright?” she asked, concerned. “What was that about?”

I stood up slowly.

“See that?” I pointed at one of the statues.

It was the large man from the painting with today’s date, highlighted by the cellar’s colored lights.

His marble body was covered in patterns of yellow sunflower fields and dark red flames.

Laia seemed to remember the painting. The pattern was wrong. The snowy mountains fell several meters away from the statue.

It was hard to tell how the patterns of light in the room fit together, and trying to correct the appraiser’s mistake would probably only make things worse.

“This place... I can’t even imagine how long it took him to build it.”

Laia listened, then looked around in awe. “This calendar is a masterwork of engineering.”

“We can’t dismantle this, Laia. Who knows how many more things we’re missing.”