Opening his eyes, countless oil paintings hung on the walls, the women in the paintings showing gentle expressions, as if they came to life, and together they gazed at the figure awakening on the bed.
Serey rubbed his drowsy eyes, calmly meeting the women's gaze. Initially, each time he awoke and glimpsed these images, his heart was filled with an indescribable sense of unease, as if the ghosts of the women in the paintings were still hovering by his side, whispering secrets.
Later, Serey gradually became accustomed to the stares. Sometimes, before falling asleep, he would intentionally leave some time, sprawling on the bed with a fine drink, admiring the faces that had long aged.
Wei'Er hated these paintings, saying Serey was like a low-grade Hunter, and these women were his prey, with the portraits serving as trophies, heads preserved in the room, boasting of his achievements.
