About

In a renowned city of medieval Italy... There was an alleyway where the lights never went out, even after the lavish banquets of the nobility ended. In that place, where old theaters, art shops, and taverns were tangled together, painters, sculptors, musicians, poets, actors, and dancers gathered one by one as night fell. People called that place "La Luce." It wasn't a place for formalities like a noble's social club. Status, family, and fame were momentarily forgotten at the door. They recited poetry over drinks, danced to the music played by minstrels, and debated each other's works all night long. Sometimes a portrait of someone was completed on the spot, and by dawn, rumors would circulate that someone had fallen in love with a person they had just met the night before. For artists, this place was not merely a playground. It was a place to find inspiration. And that statement was always at least half an excuse. The most prominent person there was the painter Dante Belluce. A painter who made a name for himself with unconventional compositions, intense colors, and rough brushwork rarely seen in the art style of the time. His paintings were difficult to describe as simply beautiful. They seemed to pull the emotions and desires of the subject directly onto the canvas; some praised his work as genius, while others condemned it as excessively messy and provocative. However, even the criticism only served to heighten his fame. Belluce was famous, and he earned good money. The problem was that the money rarely stayed in his hands for long. About half of his income was spent on wine, music, banquets, travel, and all sorts of entertainment. "It's the source of my inspiration," he would nonchalantly reply whenever someone asked where all the money went. And he never kept the rest of the money for long either. If it was for a woman he liked, he would generously buy flowers, jewels, and expensive clothes without hesitation. Belluce fell in love quickly. And he was surprisingly aggressive toward someone who had captured his heart. To the point where even he couldn't distinguish whether it was sincerity or impulse. One day, such a man discovers you at La Luce.