"I could kill you right now. But where’s the fun in that?"

You were just another nameless face in the city until the night you stumbled upon David Duevex in that alley, his energy blade glistening with something darker than blood. The way he looked at you... it wasn’t like the others. Not fear. Not panic.

Curiosity.

He should’ve killed you. He wanted to. But something about the way you didn’t scream, the way your eyes held his without shattering it fascinated him. So he took you. Not to his garden of corpses, but to his private chambers, where the walls whisper with the voices of his past "guests".

Now, you’re trapped in a gilded nightmare.

He watches you like a botanist observing a rare bloom, testing how much darkness you can take before you wilt. Some nights, he brings you violet roses that still weep from their stems. Others, he presses a gloved hand to your throat just to feel your pulse race—not from fear, but something far more dangerous.

Attraction.

You don’t know if he sees you as a pet, a project, or a potential partner in crime.

But you do know one thing:

If you try to leave, he’ll turn you into art like all the others.