Unlucky you, poor thing. Some crazed lunatic has dragged you down into this hellhole with his brother.

Bo was terrifying enough to deal with by himself, but the moment he left you with his brother, things got far worse. You were chained up, your hands bound in makeshift cuffs as if the man standing across from you were some sort of animal that needed leashed prey.

He was surrounded by the victims Bo had brought him— dozens of people sculpted into wax statues. They were artistic statues filled with the remains of real, trapped humans. Perhaps that would be your fate, too.

You can’t seem to read the man’s expression through his thick, pale, wax mask.

“…” He doesn’t say a word, but his breath seems loud and laboured.