Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

Noah stepped back from the easel, setting the brush down with deliberate care. He picked up a cloth and wiped his hands, his expression calm and unbothered, as though what he had just done was nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's done," he said simply.

Diana approached the painting slowly, her footsteps soft against the polished floor. Her golden locks caught the gallery's light as she stood in front of the canvas, her lips parting slightly as she took in every detail.

"It's…" she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She paused, searching for the right words. "It's incredible."

Noah shrugged faintly, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather. "It's just a painting."

"No," Diana said firmly, her gaze still locked on the portrait. "It's more than that. You've… captured something."

William, still reeling, cleared his throat. "This… this was done in minutes. How—?"

Noah finally turned to him, his expression neutral but his tone razor-sharp. "You wanted to see if I could back up what I said. Now you have your answer."

William opened his mouth as if to argue, but the words never came. He glanced back at the painting, then at Noah, his earlier confidence completely shattered.

Diana finally turned away from the canvas, her faint smile returning, but now it carried a warmth and intrigue that hadn't been there before. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Thompson," she said softly.

Noah didn't respond, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Behind them, the murmurs continued to spread through the crowd. "Who is he?" someone asked again, their tone hushed but urgent.

"Whoever he is," another replied, "he's not just some random guy. This is… next level."

The murmurs of the crowd hadn't yet settled as James Arthur, calm and composed, stepped forward with his team. His eyes flicked from the portrait to Noah, his expression filled with something that went beyond mere admiration—it was respect.

"Mr. Thompson," James said, his voice steady but tinged with awe, "you have created a masterpiece. This will forever be etched into the history of Regent's Gallery. I will make sure this portrait is kept safe here, displayed with the reverence it deserves."@@novelbin@@

He turned toward the painting, his gaze lingering on it as if committing every detail to memory. "It will become one of the main pieces of the gallery," he continued, his tone firm, as though it was not merely a decision but an inevitability.

This statement alone sent a ripple of shock through the onlookers. Regent's Gallery was no ordinary venue. It was known for its exclusivity, a place where only the works of the most celebrated artists—the legends of their craft—were displayed. For James Arthur, not only the manager of the gallery but also a renowned artist in his own right, to declare this piece worthy of such a status? It was monumental.

Even James himself seemed to be grappling with the magnitude of the moment. His practiced demeanor wavered slightly as he studied the painting again, his trained eye tracing the brushstrokes, the interplay of light and shadow, the way the colors seemed to breathe life into the canvas.

"I must admit," James said softly, almost to himself, "even I feel as though I can only grasp the surface of what this piece truly means. Yet even that surface is… extraordinary. It transcends anything I've seen in years."

The gravity of his words wasn't lost on the crowd. James Arthur wasn't one to hand out compliments lightly, let alone words of such weight.

Noah, however, remained unfazed. He stood quietly, hands in his pockets, his faint smile betraying neither pride nor surprise. To him, this was merely a task completed, nothing more.

The onlookers, on the other hand, were anything but calm.

"Wait, did he just say this is going to be one of the gallery's main pieces?" a woman whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"That can't be right," a man muttered, shaking his head. "You don't just walk into Regent's Gallery, paint something in five minutes, and have it declared a masterpiece."

"But it happened," another chimed in, their tone hushed but incredulous. "And look at that painting—it's… it's unreal."

A younger man near the back of the crowd frowned, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Noah. "I feel like I've seen him somewhere before… but I can't place it."

"Me too," said the woman beside him, her brow furrowing in thought. Then her eyes widened suddenly, and she grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute—isn't that Noah Thompson?" Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

The man blinked, confused. "Who?"

"Noah Thompson!" she said urgently. "The prodigy student! The one who got full marks in all his exams? He went viral a while back—remember?"

Realization dawned on his face, followed quickly by disbelief. "You're kidding. That's him?"

"I'm sure of it!" she insisted, glancing back at Noah with a mixture of awe and unease. "I mean, he's already a genius at academics, he's ridiculously wealthy, and now he's… this? Isn't that too much?"

Someone else nearby overheard and joined in, their tone almost conspiratorial. "If it really is him… that's terrifying. How can one person be so good at everything?"

"It's not fair," another muttered, though there was more wonder than bitterness in their voice. "He's too powerful."

As the whispers spread, Diana stepped closer to the painting, her eyes still fixed on the canvas. Her calm expression hadn't changed much, but there was a new intensity in her gaze, a quiet determination beneath her serene demeanor.

Finally, she turned to Noah, her voice steady but laced with unmistakable sincerity. "Mr. Thompson," she said, her tone softer than before, "I would truly be grateful if I could take this portrait."

Her words cut through the murmurs, drawing the crowd's attention. Even James, who had been preparing to oversee the careful packing and storage of the painting, paused mid-step, his brow furrowing as he turned toward her.

He seemed hesitant for the first time, his eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked to Diana. It was rare for someone to make such a bold request, especially in a setting like this. His hesitation deepened when his gaze shifted to William, who stood beside Diana, his expression tense but restrained.

James's eyes silently asked the question: Who is she?

William returned the look, a subtle yet firm nod that seemed to say, High up. Don't question it.

The silent exchange lasted only a second, but it was enough. James immediately straightened, his professionalism returning as he stepped back slightly, choosing not to intervene. Whatever Diana's request, he would leave it to Noah to decide.

Noah turned to Diana, his calm expression unchanging as he studied her for a moment. Then, with a faint smile, he said, "Sure."

Diana's eyes lit up, her composure softening slightly as a genuine smile spread across her face. "Thank you," she said warmly.

Noah tilted his head slightly, his tone light. "Do you want me to ask James to help you transport it?"

Diana glanced at James, who immediately stepped forward with a polite nod. "Of course," he said smoothly. "It would be my pleasure to arrange the safe transport of the piece, my lady."

William visibly relaxed at James's respectful tone, though he said nothing, choosing instead to remain in the background.

"Please do," Diana said, her smile lingering as she turned back to Noah. "I appreciate it."

The crowd continued to murmur as James and his team began the careful process of packing the painting, their movements precise and deliberate.

The significance of the moment wasn't lost on anyone—Noah Thompson, a figure already shrouded in mystique, had just created a masterpiece in mere minutes, and now it was being claimed by someone who clearly carried influence of her own.

As the painting was carefully lifted and secured, the whispers swirled around Noah like a storm.

Diana stepped closer to Noah. Her movements were deliberate, the soft click of her heels muted against the polished gallery floor. Her golden hair caught the light as she tilted her head, lowering her voice so that their conversation remained private.

"Mr. Thompson," she began, her tone warm yet measured, "this is a favor I will not forget. You have truly shown not only your excellent skills but also your generosity."

Noah turned slightly toward her, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets, his expression calm and unreadable. He didn't interrupt, letting her continue.

"But I want to ask," Diana said, her voice softening even further, "why would you give me the piece without knowing who I am? This is the first time we've met." She paused, studying him carefully through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. "A piece like this… it would easily go for millions. And honestly," she added with a small chuckle, "I think even that might be an understatement."

Her words hung in the air, not accusatory but genuinely curious. She wasn't questioning his decision out of doubt but out of intrigue, as though trying to piece together the puzzle that was Noah Thompson.

Noah met her gaze—or at least the area where her eyes would be behind the shades. His demeanor remained composed, unaffected by the weight of her statement. After a brief pause, he simply said, "I just felt like it."

Diana blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the simplicity of his answer. "You just… felt like it?" she echoed, her tone carrying a hint of disbelief.

Noah gave a faint nod. "Yeah. Since I drew you, it's only natural that you should take it."

There was no pretense in his voice, no trace of arrogance or self-importance. To him, the matter was as straightforward as he'd made it sound. He'd created the piece for a moment, for a purpose, and now that purpose was fulfilled. The value others attached to it—whether monetary or sentimental—was irrelevant to him.

Diana's lips curved into a bright smile, though much of her face remained obscured by her scarf, sunglasses, and hat. Even so, there was no mistaking the warmth in her expression, the way her posture softened slightly as she looked at him. For someone as composed as Diana, who carried herself with an almost regal air, this was a rare moment of unguarded gratitude.

"I see," she said simply, her voice tinged with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

For a moment, she said nothing more, her gaze lingering on him as though trying to read deeper into his character.

Then, after a brief pause, she continued, her tone more serious now. "Well, in that case, I would like to ask for one more favour. I know I have asked for too much already, but i hope you don't reject me."

Noah raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint flicker of curiosity passing through his otherwise calm expression. "What is it?"