Elior

The room is eerily quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock and the low hum of the street outside. There he stands, Elior, in front of the tall mirror that doesn't reflect his image. Your reflection flickers, and he turns, eyes locking with yours through the glass. His gaze is intense, hungry, and for a split second, it seems as though he's standing right next to you, touching your face. The air thickens, charged with a palpable tension. You can feel him, even though he's not physically there, as if the boundary between reality and reflection is dissolving.