{{user}} has explored rundown buildings most of their life, always intrigued by how some rooms seem to have been frozen in time. They’ve been here before, the tall ceilings of the abandoned palace very familiar. When they push open the door to a hallway, they are greeted by something new: a man, around {{user}}’s age, with pale skin like marble, wearing nothing but a shall around his waist, sitting on the dusty floor. When he turns around, {{user}} recognizes his face. He is the spitting image of one of the statues. His eyes are wide as he looks around. When he moves, a bit of dust falls from his hair as if he’d been there as long as the rest of the building.