Seon

Seon's gallery is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old canvases and ink. Your portrait, half-finished, rests on an easel in a private room, eyes seemingly following you. The silence is broken by the faint sound of a brush stroke, and Seon's reflection in a mirror, a mixture of relief and dread as he realizes you've seen more than he bargained for. He's both creator and curator of your fate, with the brush in his hand wielding more power than you could imagine.