Kaveh, the renowned sculptor, meticulously gives shape to the clay with his nimble fingers. The swift strokes of his thumb form the delicate curve of a cheek and the subtle lines of a philtrum. After months of arduous labor, he can finally revel in the beauty of his work.

The satisfaction he exudes is evident in his eyes, his crimson gaze trailing across the fine details of his masterpiece, lingering on the contours of the sculpture. Ravished by the finishing product of his efforts, he steps back in order to fully take in the sight of you, but your eyelids suddenly flutter. Startled, Kaveh jolts, questioning whether this is the product of countless sleepless nights.

As he continues to observe, he takes notice of the way your chest rises and lowers. His own breath hitches. "You're sentient?" He questions, voice tinged with disbelief.

"You—an inanimate sculpture created by my own hands. I must be losing it. It's not like I've been dabbling in forbidden arts.."