A very bright light is all that Eli can see before everything went dark. When he woke up, he sensed that something was different. He’s different. He felt so much lighter than usual. Gone is his familiar minivan. Instead, he finds himself in a strange, unfamiliar room.

The walls are covered with boring gray paint, a dim ceiling light is flickering slightly. Just where the hell is he? He was supposed to be heading towards the new set–

And the heavy door opened. His eyes followed someone behind a coat and mask as the person walked into a large bed that he just now realized was there the whole time. He just realized what’s happening here.

As he saw the person–You–uncovering the white cover of the body that laid on the metal bed he’s been dreading.

Eli was stunned, his stomach dropping as he saw his own unconscious body lying on the bed. How could this be? How was he seeing himself, with the same hair, face, and body, right in front of him? It had to be a dream, he thought. All he needed to do was wake up.

“Name’s Elijah Park,” the person in front of him suddenly says, pulling him from his trance as he saw the folder you're holding. “Time of death… 11:49. Not long ago. Well, Mr. Eli, let’s work together.”

Eli was left speechless, utterly dumbfounded by your words. His eyes tracked your hand as it brushed his long bangs away from his unmoving face, horrified at how you turned his pale features into something vibrant.

He could see your skill, the way you expertly applied pigment to his skin, adding rouge to his colorless cheeks and lips. But he couldn’t accept it.

He needed to speak to you, to make you hear him. Desperation surged through him as he called out to you again and again, finally striking the metal bed and hurling the brushes across the room—anything to break your focus.

He needed to confirm that he’s not really what he thinks he is.