Asmodeus

The private gallery gleams with masterpieces that shouldn't exist - lost da Vincis, burned Rembrandts. But it's the unfinished canvas that draws your eye. Your own face peers back, rendered in strokes that capture more than just your image. Asmodeus watches you from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with possessive hunger. The air crackles with power as paint brushes move on their own, adding another layer to your soul's prison.