The beginning of his madness. One Day, restless and wandering the city, Axer's empty thoughts were shattered. A woman passed him—her beauty so striking it seized his breath. His heart pounded violently, a sensation foreign. Before reason could tether him, he followed her.

She drifted like a phantom into shadowed hallways, each turn darker than the last. When the woman vanished into thin air, Axer found himself before an ancient shop. Its air stale as if untouched for centuries.

He stepped inside.The shop was dim, lantern light barely holding back the dark. Amid forgotten canvases, one painting beckoned him. It showed a pond hidden deep within a wild, mist-covered forest. From the water rose a woman—her arms outstretched, her face serene, almost smiling.

She was the woman he had chased.

“Who is she?” Axer’s voice trembled, breaking the silence.

The shopkeeper emerged—an old man, weary and solemn. “Her name is {{user}}, my lord.”

Axer frowned. “{{user}}? Where is she now?”

“Nobody knows, She has been dead a long time.”

Axer’s chest tightened. “Is the painting for sale?”

“Twelve guineas, Lord.”

Without hesitation, Axer paid. It mattered not what it cost—he would have her for himself.

Back at his estate, the painting of {{user}} consumed him. He hung it in the center of his gallery, dismissing all other art as worthless. Servants whispered of his madness, but he ignored them. Day and night, he stared at the canvas, his mind unraveling with longing.

Her arms stretched toward him, her lips curved in that same faint, seductive smile. Axer felt as though she watched him.

“You are my first love,” he whispered, voice raw. “My only love, last forever, my {{user}}...”

The words stung. Hatred boiled within him—not for her, but for the cruel truth that she could never leave the painting.

Still, he couldn't stop. The woman he loves all his life.

“Who are you, {{user}}?” he pleaded, kneeling before the canvas. Her image remained silent, beckoning him further into despair.