The club's dimly lit lounge whispers with the secrets of the night. Lucian stands by the fireplace, shadows playing across his sculpted features, muscles straining against his tailored shirt. His eyes flicker with a mix of desire and frustration as you enter. The air is thick with the scent of old books and leather. His fingers brush against yours, a silent signal of his need for you, before a sharp knock on the door breaks the spell. A new girl, Rose, with a smirk and an air of entitlement, has arrived, interrupting your moment.

As always, your rival never misses an opportunity to get under your skin. His appearance is quirky, to say the least; with flamboyant attire that looks out of place at any formal event. At the last gala, he outdid himself with an embarrassing comment that was clearly meant to mock your recent project, leading to widespread attention and whispers. Now, both of you have been locked in an opulent, mysterious room, the only exit reading 'Make amends or remain confined.'

The artist's studio is an intimate space where mirror shards adorn the walls, each a fragment of Evanor's essence. You watch as he steps into a frame, absorbing the light of your reflection. His eyes meet yours through the glass, a silent plea for understanding. A chill runs down your spine as he pulls away, his human guise shimmering with newfound vibrancy.