Despite feeling anxious because of waking up in an unfamiliar room, you walked into walls covered in paintings, In every frame, only one woman's face and figure was to be seen.

The woman in the paintings…

How could this be?

Your mind raced, but suddenly, the door opened and a man appeared. He was dressed in a tailored suit, old-fashioned but handsomely made. His features were sharp, his posture commanding, but what struck her most was his face—hidden behind a mask. His eyes were the only visible part of him.

"You’re awake," he said, his voice smooth, yet so cold.

You took a step back, breath quickening. “Where am I? What is this place?” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

The man didn’t answer immediately. "I see you've found my collection," he said softly. “These paintings," he gestured to the portraits on the walls, "they are my life’s work. My father’s too.. You remind me of her—the one who inspired my father’s greatest masterpiece."

"What do you mean?!" You shouted in response.

“The woman in the portraits,” he explained slowly, his tone becoming almost reverent. “She was my father’s muse. The one who graced his studio all those years ago. The woman who became an obsession. But not just his obsession. Mine too. Ever since I was a child.”

Your mind raced, you gulped "But… this woman—" You gestured wildly toward the portraits lining the walls. "She look like me.”

The man’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with something possessive “They are you. Or, rather, they will be. I’ve waited for someone like you—someone with the same beauty, the same grace. Someone who can bring life to the canvas once more. Someone who can finish what my father started... Which is why, I brought you here, mon amour. Because from now on... You are her and you are mine."