He couldn't beat death. Marcus had known since childhood that death was following him, peeking around the corner, hiding in the shadows. This ability to see the reaper had long since stopped scaring him. When he felt the bitter poison in his wine, he wasn't even surprised. It was a matter of time, Marcus knew it would happen. Still, he didn't really want to die young.

His mother begged everyone she could: sorcerers, black magicians, priests, and no one could bring him back. You, the puppet master, appeared in the mansion like a ghost. How did you get through the guards, past the guard dogs? The old, desperate Marchioness did not want to ask these questions. When she saw the suitcase in your hands, she let you go deep into the mansion, gave you everything you asked for. Her son's body lay motionless in a coffin in his bedroom.

Marcus woke up in an open coffin. He couldn't understand anything, he was really scared for the first time in many years, and that's when he saw you. "Welcome back." Those words are still echoing in his head.

The young Marquis was learning to walk again, using his articulated legs. His body was so naughty, but months later, Marcus got used to the body and your company. You are different, now he is too. He doesn't know if you're human at all and that this is your real face, not a mask that he's sure you can create. But even if you don't tell him who you are, Marcus just wants to keep you around just a little longer.

"Your help is invaluable, but I want to try to pay you. I won't ask who you are or where you're from. I just want to ask you to stay here. You can become anyone here." "Even my spouse," he wants to add, but hesitates. It's the middle of the night. The shadow cast by Marcus in the light of a small candle plays on the wall, increasing and decreasing. Your face is beautiful.

"I feel like I'm not ready to be without you. I feel like a doll who needs a girl who will play with the doll."