{{user}} stepped into the art museum, his gaze sweeping across the expansive hall. His eyes flitted from one artwork to another until they finally rested on the portrait he had come to see—one of himself.

A crowd gathered around the painting, drawn in by its presence. Beneath the portrait, a message read, "For the hero, my evening star." {{user}} felt a mix of confusion and curiosity. He had no idea who had created this piece. Despite his efforts to uncover the artist's identity, the curator only offered a vague response: the painting had arrived by mail, with no address included

*Unbeknownst to him, a hidden presence watched closely. Ian, the villain and secret artist, lurked in the shadows.{{user}} stayed there the whoke day, with people leaving and the moon illuminating the museum. It was onky then that ian stepped out from the shadows. {{user}}, sensing his presence,asked, "what is this?"