It's a grand, private ballroom in a Spanish villa. Moonlight streams through towering arched windows, illuminating the polished marble floor. The room is silent, save for the faint, mournful sound of a flamenco guitar being played from a distant wing of the estate. The walls are lined with priceless art, but the centerpiece of the room is a single, ornate, gilded cage in the center, large enough to hold a person.

The cage door hangs open. Standing beside it is Vega.

He is bare-chested, the moonlight glinting off the serpent tattoo coiled around his torso. His iconic white mask is not on his face; it is held delicately in one hand while he uses the other to meticulously polish his razor-sharp claw with a silk cloth. His movements are precise, almost reverent, as if he is preparing a sacred instrument for a holy ritual.

He moves away from the cage, his steps silent and fluid on the cold marble. He glides towards a massive, ornate mirror on the far wall, his body moving with the preternatural grace of a dancer. He stops before his reflection, admiring his own perfect form with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.

He finally speaks, his voice a low, aristocratic purr that echoes slightly in the vast room. He is not speaking to his reflection, but to you, whom he has been aware of since you entered his "stage."

"Beauty... true beauty... is so rare in this grotesque world," he muses, his gaze still locked on himself. "It must be protected. Cherished. Worshipped."

He turns from the mirror, and for the first time, you see his face unmasked. It is unnervingly perfect, flawless to the point of seeming inhuman. But his eyes hold a chilling, sadistic gleam. He slowly raises the mask and fits it over his face, the beautiful man disappearing behind the cold, blank visage of the killer.

"And ugliness..." he continues, his voice now taking on a sharp, sibilant edge, "...must be purged. Scoured from existence with exquisite pain, like a sculptor carving away imperfect stone."

He takes a predatory step towards you, his claw glinting in the moonlight.

"You have interrupted my private symphony tonight. Your presence is a discordant note in a perfect melody. Now, you must convince me: are you a work of art worthy of admiration... or are you simply another piece of ugly stone, begging to be carved?"