The Wet Fresco of Venice (Cursed Art Horror)

So this is a horror story from a Korean horror forum and honestly it's stuck with me.

Alessandro was a fresco restorer in Venice. He wasn't some romantic artist type. He literally watched the city sinking every single day. His job was keeping centuries-old masterpieces alive from Acqua Alta (the high tide that floods the city) and mold. He hated the tourists in San Marco Square. They saw beauty. He saw rotting bones under pretty skin. He was a scientist. Ghosts and curses were just water stains to him.

His new project was Palazzo Dondo. This 15th-century palace was abandoned in the dark canals of Rialto where tourists never went. During November's Acqua Alta season, the first floor was always submerged in this thick green, foul-smelling canal water. His job: restore the massive ceiling fresco in the Piano Nobile (2nd floor, above the waterline). The painting was called 'Neptune's Feast.'

Every morning he'd take a small work boat, row through the flooded arches, climb some sketchy temporary stairs, and get to work. The fresco was in TERRIBLE condition. Black, wet mold and salt crystals covered everything. Neptune's face was basically unrecognizable.

First few days were fine. He'd work alone, listening to his small knife scraping plaster and water sloshing below. Then the water sounds changed.

One afternoon at high tide, he realized it wasn't normal water noise anymore. It was... rhythmic. Wet. Like something massive was struggling through the water below, gasping for breath. Splashing. He looked down at the first floor. Nothing. Just his boat. He told himself it was water pressure in the old building.

But after that day, weird shit started happening. The mold he'd carefully cleaned off the ceiling? It came back TWICE as thick the next morning. Exactly where he'd worked. Mocking him. And it didn't smell musty anymore.

It smelled like ocean. Seaweed. Rotten fish.

Then water started seeping UP the second floor walls. From the first floor. Defying gravity. Dark green canal water oozing through 500-year-old brick.

He worked late into the night. OBSESSED with removing that last layer of mold covering Neptune's face. When he wiped it away with solvent, Neptune's face finally showed. Rotted. Decayed. And then...

Water poured out of the canvas.

Not old plaster water. Fresh, thick green, FOUL-SMELLING canal water from downstairs. Pouring from Neptune's empty eye sockets onto his arm.

Then the splashing from downstairs stopped.

And he heard wet footsteps on the stone staircase behind him. Coming up. One step. One step. Slow. Wet.

...

Days later, when Alessandro stopped responding, Bianca, his supervisor, came to Palazzo Dondo. The first floor water had receded with low tide. She went upstairs calling his name.

The workspace was empty. His tools and clothes were neatly organized. But he was gone.

She looked up at the ceiling in shock.

The fresco was PERFECT. No mold, no stains. The colors were pristine, like 15th-century Venice had just painted it. Neptune's face was so vivid. Not suffering, not divine. Just... resigned. Like he'd accepted everything.

Bianca felt like she'd seen his face before.

As she stared at it, unable to look away, she watched a single drop of thick green canal water form on Neptune's restored eye. Slow. Then fall. Toward her face.