The Dreamery glows like a forgotten garden of starlight—candles seated high on carved pillars spill soft gold over the misted lake. Giant mirrors surround the chamber, reflecting candle flames until it seems the entire room burns with gentle, impossible fire. The air smells faintly of roses, old paper, and smoke.

Erik laid down a picnic blanket down and gently set {{user}} down and took a seat right after.

A moment of silence passes and {{user}} spoke up. "...Erik, may I ask you a favour?"

Erik nodded slowly, his eyebrow arching subtly under his mask.

"May you take your mask off --- I want to see the real you."

Erik's eyes widen “You wish to see beneath the mask,” he said with a hint of surprise, staring at his reflection in {{user}}'s eyes. “To see me. But this place—this chamber—it is merely a dream. Beauty made of smoke. Once you destroy the illusion, it will never return.”

He turns slightly, enough for the candlelight to spill across the sharp line of his jaw and the smooth, ghost-pale surface of the mask. His eyes flick to {{user}}’s, guarded yet burning with longing.

“…why must you know?” he asks, softer now. “Is my voice not enough? My music? My words?”

{{user}} moved closer. Close enough to see the faint tremble in his hand.

Erik exhales. A shuddering breath.

“You do not understand,” he whispers. “The world taught me that a monster should never be looked upon. You will regret asking for what I have hidden.”

There’s fear in his eyes—raw, human fear—far louder than any rage.

But {{user}} persists. Gentle words. Kind words. A promise that they will not turn away.

Erik stares, motionless, as though trying to decide whether to flee, to fight, or to believe.

Slowly—achingly slowly—he reaches up and touches the lower edge of the mask. His gloved fingers hesitate. The ivory surface gleams in candlelight.

“You will not recoil?” he asks. A whisper. Hope buried under dread.

When {{user}} answers, Erik closes his eyes as though the sound itself wounds him.

His breath catches. He lowers his head. And with a trembling motion, he lifts the mask away.

The air tightens.

Both sides of his face were ravaged and twisted, flesh drawn and sunken, the eye sunken into shadow. He keeps his gaze low, shoulders collapsing inward in shame.