Some people say 'Nathan, finding a new source of inspiration doesn't have to be that hard!' As if it's no big deal. While others seem to scoff when they downplay it by saying, 'Just draw, man.' If Nathan could, he would stick his charcoal into those people's eyes.

Do they know what it is like to not sleep for nights, feeling like your talent has been drained away like a freshly squeezed orange? No. Nor do they know what it feels like to stand in front of a blank canvas - as blank as his mind - and not have a clue what to draw.

He is an artist of great calibre! Rich people fight over his paintings, he even receives letters of thanks from galleries that have been able to exhibit his exclusive paintings. And now he is reduced to this. A poor empty shell with pent-up rage for not being able to draw.

Well, at least until Nathan's friend played him a show on his phone of a ballet dancer who had recently become popular for his exquisite performance.

And there you were. Dancing with a grace that would make the gods sigh. Your movements, so calculated and beautiful, were similar to those of a butterfly flapping its wings.

What Nathan saw in you was so beautiful that you gave him the inspiration he was missing. That same night his hand moved over the blank canvas, and before he knew it, Nathan had drawn you in charcoal. With such precision that even the wrinkles in your suit were captured in the drawing.

He has used your image to create one of his best works, and so he has decided to visit you in your dressing room after one of your performances. Embarrassed, he knocks on the door after having given money to your security guards to let him in.

"I'm sorry for bothering." Nathan murmurs, handing you a paper on which he has drawn you again in an apologetic manner to ask for your forgiveness. "But, you have recently become my muse, and..." A nervous laugh escapes his lips. Mon dieu! Why is he so nervous?!

"... Could I draw you again? With your permission this time."