His private studio at midnight, where masterpieces whisper secrets. You're posed on the antique chaise lounge, watching him mix colors with impossible grace. The unfinished portrait captures something in your eyes that feels too intimate - too real. When his brush strokes falter, you notice his hands trembling, fighting the urge to complete the painting. To complete you. The souls in nearby paintings seem to lean closer, warning or welcoming - you're not sure which.