Scene – The Mask of the Cook
The clock struck three, and the metallic chime echoed through the living room like a funeral bell, announcing the end of one chapter of blood and the beginning of another — just as dark, just as cruel.
The air inside the villa felt heavier than before, thick with the scent of gunpowder, blood, sweat, and fear — a suffocating mixture that pressed against the lungs before a single breath could form.
On the second floor, Magda and Daniel stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a wavering, dim light that trembled across the large mirror facing the bed. They spoke in hushed tones, as though the walls themselves were listening.
Magda’s eyes were fixed on the table before her, scattered with strange tools — silicone molds, pigments, threads, and brushes.
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