“And she’s not alone.”
The voice over the radio was trembling.
Pierre couldn’t answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you the Mona Lisa walked out of the museum. But… people are coming out of other paintings too.”
Pierre’s face hardened.
“How many?”
A brief silence followed.
“I don’t know.”
“Give me an estimate!”
“Dozens… No, they’re still coming out.”
Crackle—
The radio suddenly cut out.
“Hello?”
Pierre called several times, but all he heard was static.
Slowly, he looked down at the silver key.
The numbers on its surface continued to tick down.
05:57:41
05:57:40
05:57:39
Less than six hours remained.
He had to find the true Mona Lisa before sunrise.
But he didn’t even know who the “true Mona Lisa” was.
Lisa’s body lay on the bed inside the golden door.
A painting containing Lisa’s memories hung on the wall.
And the other Mona Lisa who had existed until a short while ago had slipped out of the painting and vanished somewhere.
Which one of them was the real one?
Pierre looked at the black-eyed man.
“Urvra.”
The instant he spoke the name, hundreds of paintings began to shake at once.
The black-eyed man smiled.
“You remembered my name.”
“Did you cause all of this?”
“I did nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“You’re the one who opened the door.”
Pierre’s face hardened.
It was true.
He was the one who had turned the silver key.
But someone had drawn him here from the very beginning.
The Mona Lisa had spoken to him, the key had appeared, and the hidden passage had opened.
It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“Who chose me?”
Pierre asked.
Urvra didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked past Pierre.
Leonardo stood there, having emerged from a painting.
Leonardo spoke.
“That isn’t important right now.”
“Then what is?”
“We have to find the Mona Lisa.”
“Which Mona Lisa?”
Leonardo fell silent for a moment.
“The woman who first came out of the painting.”
“The woman without a shadow?”
“Yes.”
Pierre couldn’t understand.
“You said she isn’t the real Lisa.”
“We have to find her because she isn’t real.”
Leonardo’s eyes grew heavy.
“If she reaches the surface, the boundary between paintings and reality will collapse.”
Jean spoke up.
“Looks like it’s already collapsed.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a vibration ran through the ceiling.
Boom.
Dust fell.
From far away came the sound of countless footsteps.
It sounded as though hundreds of people were walking around the upper floors of the museum.
Pierre turned the radio on again.
“Security control room, respond!”
After a moment, someone answered.
“Pi… Pierre?”
“Report the situation!”
“I can’t explain it.”
“Tell me what you see!”
The other person drew a deep breath.
“Three soldiers came out of a portrait from the age of Napoleon. In the Renaissance gallery, a woman walked out of a painting, and…”
“Are they attacking people?”
The answer was unexpected.
“No.”
“They’re just walking.”
“Where?”
“All in the same direction.”
Pierre asked,
“Where?”
“The exit.”
Jean looked at Pierre.
“They’re trying to get outside.”
At that moment, Urvra laughed.
“They’re finally seeking freedom.”
Leonardo glared at him.
“Is this what you wanted?”
“What I wanted?”
Urvra slowly shook his head.
“I merely showed them the door.”
“You’re the one who imprisoned them in the paintings.”
“No.”
Urvra’s black eyes turned toward Leonardo.
“You’re the one who imprisoned them.”
The room fell silent.
Pierre looked at Leonardo.
“Is that true?”
Leonardo didn’t answer.
“Tell me!”
“I was trying to save them.”
“Imprisoning them in paintings is saving them?”
Leonardo lowered his head.
“That’s what I believed back then.”
Anger surged through Pierre.
“People are coming out of the paintings now because of your experiments!”
“That’s why I have to put an end to this.”
Leonardo held out his hand.
“Give me the key.”
Pierre clenched it in his fist.
“No.”
“Pierre!”
“I can’t trust anyone anymore.”
He stepped inside the golden door.
“Pierre!”
Jean followed him.
Lisa’s body still lay on the bed.
Pierre approached her.
It was hard to believe she had died five hundred years ago.
Her skin was pale, but it hadn’t decayed.
With her eyes closed, she looked much younger than the Mona Lisa hanging in the Louvre.
And there was one strange thing about her.
She wasn’t smiling.
Pierre looked at Lisa’s hand.
A small ring was on the ring finger of her left hand.
Letters were engraved on it.
F.D.G.
“Francesco del Giocondo.”
Pierre murmured the name.
It was Lisa’s husband.
Jean came closer.
“She really does look like the true Lisa.”
Pierre carefully touched her wrist.
He expected it to be cold.
But—
“Jean.”
“What?”
“She’s warm.”
“What?”
Jean touched her wrist.
His expression changed.
“She really is.”
Pierre brought his fingers to her neck.
He felt something, faintly.
Thump.
A moment later.
Thump.
“She has a pulse.”
The heart of the woman who had slept for five hundred years was beating.
Then the silver key began to shine.
The inscription on its surface changed.
Return the memories to the body.
Pierre looked at the painting of the true Lisa hanging on the wall.
The Lisa in the painting was looking at him.
“If you return your memories to your body, can you wake up?”
Lisa nodded.
“But there’s a price.”
“What price?”
“The painting will disappear.”
Pierre was speechless for a moment.
“Then the Mona Lisa in the Louvre will disappear too?”
“Yes.”
“The most famous painting in the world will be gone?”
Lisa gave him a sad smile.
“That painting is the reason I’ve been trapped for five hundred years.”
Pierre couldn’t say anything.
Should he protect the artwork humanity loved most?
Or save the human being trapped inside it?
The choice weighed more heavily than he had expected.
Then Jean spoke.
“A person matters more than a painting.”
Pierre looked at Jean.
“You can paint a picture again, but you can’t bring a person back to life.”
Leonardo spoke from behind them.
“It’s not that simple.”
The two men turned around.
“If you return Lisa’s memories to her body, the Mona Lisa’s seal will disappear completely.”
“So?”
“The last force binding Urvra will disappear as well.”
Pierre gritted his teeth.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
Leonardo couldn’t answer.
In the end, it was a choice.
If they revived Lisa, Urvra could be freed.
If they maintained the seal, Lisa would remain trapped in the painting forever.
At that moment, a scream came through the radio.
“Pierre!”
“What happened?”
“The people who came out of the paintings have left the museum!”
“Where are they going?”
“Toward the Seine!”
“What about the Mona Lisa?”
“She’s with them!”
Pierre started running.
“Jean, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To find the Mona Lisa.”
Leonardo blocked his path.
“The surface is dangerous.”
“There’s no answer here either.”
“If you take the key outside, Urvra may be able to follow you.”
Pierre looked at Urvra.
The black-eyed man stood in front of the golden door.
But something was strange.
He couldn’t cross the threshold.
As if an invisible wall stood in his way.
Urvra laughed.
“Don’t worry. I can’t leave yet.”
“Yet?”
“Until sunrise.”
The numbers in Pierre’s hand ticked down again.
05:21:07
“What happens when the time runs out?”
Urvra answered,
“The boundary between paintings and reality will vanish completely.”
“And then?”
“Every painting in the world will become a door.”
Pierre swallowed hard.
The paintings in the museum weren’t the only problem.
Museums around the world.
Cathedrals.
Palaces.
Private collections.
Countless portraits painted over hundreds of years.
What would happen if people emerged from every single painting?
“Is there any way to stop it?”
Urvra looked at Pierre’s key.
“Find the true Mona Lisa.”
“Who is she?”
For the first time, Urvra’s expression turned serious.
“The woman who doesn’t smile.”
Pierre froze.
It was the same as the inscription that had appeared on the key.
If you want the truth, find the woman who doesn’t smile.
Then Lisa spoke from inside the painting.
“Pierre.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not her.”
“Not who?”
“The woman the key is referring to—the woman who doesn’t smile. That isn’t me.”
Pierre’s expression hardened.
“Then who is it?”
Before Lisa could answer, the entire basement shook violently.
Crash!
Stones fell from the ceiling.
“Run!”
Pierre and Jean sprinted toward the passage.
Leonardo followed behind them.
A few minutes later, the three of them reached the surface.
And stopped in their tracks.
The Louvre had completely changed.
Dozens of portraits hung on the walls, all empty.
Only the backgrounds remained.
A man in Renaissance clothing lay collapsed on the floor, while in the distance, a soldier in a French Revolutionary uniform stared out a window.
A woman was touching a modern light fixture with wonder.
They were people who had come out of paintings.
But they didn’t look like monsters.
They were confused.
They were afraid.
An old man approached Pierre.
“Where is this place?”
It was old French.
Pierre couldn’t answer.
The old man looked at the cars outside and made the sign of the cross.
“My God…”
Jean said,
“These people are victims too.”
Pierre felt the same way.
They hadn’t come out to destroy the world.
They were people who had been trapped in paintings for hundreds of years and suddenly found themselves in a strange world.
Then a guard came running from the entrance.
“Pierre!”
“What about the Mona Lisa?”
“She went outside.”
“Which way?”
“The Seine.”
The three of them ran out of the museum.
Dawn in Paris.
The rain had stopped, but the streets were wet.
And an astonishing sight unfolded before them.
Dozens of people were walking in a line.
A fifteenth-century nobleman.
A seventeenth-century soldier.
An eighteenth-century child.
A nineteenth-century woman.
Without saying a word, they were all heading toward the Seine.
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
People held up their phones and recorded everything.
Pierre pushed through the crowd as he ran.
“Mona Lisa!”
There was no answer.
“Lisa!”
At that moment, a woman on the bridge over the Seine turned around.
Black hair.
A brown dress.
Her hands folded together.
The exact figure millions had seen in the Louvre.
It was the Mona Lisa.
Pierre stopped.
The woman looked at him.
Then she smiled.
“I found you.”
Pierre ran toward her.
“Stop!”
The Mona Lisa didn’t move.
Pierre approached her.
“Are you the true Mona Lisa?”
The woman smiled.
“That’s what people have called me for five hundred years.”
“You’re not Lisa.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“So you know now.”
“Why did you bring these people outside?”
The woman looked around.
“I didn’t bring them out.”
“Then?”
“They came out on their own.”
“Where are they going?”
The woman pointed across the Seine.
An old building stood in the distance.
“There.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s waiting for them.”
“Who?”
The Mona Lisa stepped closer to Pierre.
Then she whispered in his ear.
“The true Mona Lisa.”
Pierre’s heart pounded.
“Who is she?”
Instead of answering, the woman looked at the building.
“No one has seen her face for five hundred years.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think Leonardo painted the Mona Lisa, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The woman shook her head.
“That’s wrong.”
“Then?”
“Leonardo wasn’t the one who painted it.”
Pierre’s eyes widened.
“What are you saying?”
The woman said,
“He only finished the painting.”
“Who started it?”
The smile vanished completely from the Mona Lisa’s face.
“A woman.”
“Who?”
Just as she was about to answer—
Bang!
A gunshot rang out.
The Mona Lisa’s body jerked.
Pierre shouted,
“No!”
She collapsed.
People screamed.
Pierre caught her.
Red blood spread across her brown dress.
“Who fired that shot?”
Jean searched the area.
A black shadow stood on the roof of the building.
Someone was holding a gun.
The Mona Lisa grabbed Pierre’s hand.
“There’s… no time.”
“Don’t talk.”
“You need to hear this.”
She pressed something into Pierre’s hand.
A small scrap of paper.
“Go there.”
“Where?”
“It’s written on the paper.”
“Is the true Mona Lisa there?”
The woman gave a tiny nod.
“But be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
With the last of her strength, she said,
“She… doesn’t know that she’s the Mona Lisa.”
Then she closed her eyes.
Pierre unfolded the paper.
An old French address was written on it.
Beneath it was a name.
Pierre read it.
Isabella de Milano.
Leonardo came over too late. The moment he saw the paper, his face hardened.
“Where did you get that name?”
“She gave it to me.”
Leonardo snatched the paper from him.
His hands were trembling.
Pierre had never seen him react that way before.
“Do you know this person?”
Leonardo didn’t answer.
“Tell me!”
After a moment, Leonardo raised his head.
“Isabella is dead.”
“When?”
“1499.”
“That was before you painted the Mona Lisa.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is her name coming up?”
The color drained from Leonardo’s face.
“Because…”
He spoke with difficulty.
“The first Mona Lisa I painted wasn’t Lisa.”
Pierre held his breath.
“Who was she?”
Leonardo stared at the name written on the paper.
“Isabella.”
“Is she the true Mona Lisa?”
“No.”
“Then who the hell is she?”
Leonardo didn’t answer for a long time.
Then, at last, he opened his mouth.
“My daughter.”
Pierre doubted his own ears.
“Your daughter?”
Leonardo raised his head.
His eyes held the fear he had hidden for five hundred years.
“My daughter… who never existed in history.”
At that moment, the silver key in Pierre’s hand began to shine intensely.
The numbers vanished.
In their place, a new inscription appeared.
Find the first smile.
And beneath it:
Everything began in 1499.
Pierre looked at the dark building across the Seine.
A woman stood in a third-floor window.
Black hair.
A pale face.
And…
Lips that weren’t smiling at all.
Pierre knew instinctively.
The woman was looking at him.
For an instant, her lips moved.
She was too far away for him to hear her voice.
But he knew what she was saying.
Father.
Pierre slowly looked at Leonardo.
Leonardo was looking at the woman too.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he saw his daughter for the first time in five hundred years.
And at that moment,
the light on the building’s third floor went out.
The woman vanished.
—End of Episode 5—