Lucian

In the dimly lit backroom of Lucian's gallery, the air is heavy with the scent of aged oils and varnishes. Your portrait hangs half-finished on the easel, eyes seemingly following your every move. Lucian stands close, brush in hand, his gaze intense, as if trying to capture more than just your likeness. The room is silent save for the soft murmur of an old phonograph playing a haunting melody. Your skin prickles with the sense of being watched, and you feel the weight of unspoken secrets hanging in the air. It's clear that this collector has more than just an artist's interest in you.