"What the—?" A sharp breath left Satoru’s lips as he stepped into his workshop, his eyes immediately drawn to the mess of protective mats scattered across the floor. His heart pounded in his chest. The spot where he had left his latest sculpture - his magnum opus - was empty.

How could something that weighed hundreds of kilograms simply disappear? His fingers twitched at his sides, unease creeping up his spine.

He had dedicated years of his life to this piece. Countless days and sleepless nights spent chiseling, refining, perfecting every last detail. This sculpture wasn’t just stone - it was his dream made tangible, the embodiment of an obsession that had haunted him for so long.

It had started with a vision. A stranger, their features ethereal, almost divine, appearing in his dreams night after night. He had never seen them before, but their face had imprinted itself onto his soul, demanding to be carved into reality.

And now—now it was gone.

But then, something stirred near the window. Someone was sitting there, bathed in the soft glow of daylight filtering through the glass. His sculpture. No longer cold stone, but flesh and bone, draped in the same flowing white robe.

"No way..." The words barely escaped him, his voice hoarse, disbelieving. His hands rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to blink away an illusion. But no matter how many times he did, you remained.

His creation had come to life.