They said Godfrey's paintings were like mirrors. Anyone who gazed at them saw not their face, but their soul.
People flocked to his exhibitions, overwhelmed by fear and awe. Some wept. Some fled. Some were changed forever. But no one knew how his paintings wielded such power.
Godfrey, an immortal vampire who had lived in the shadows for centuries, kept his secret in silence: he used real human blood to color his artworks. Each drop of blood, infused with the memories, emotions, and desires of its owner, transferred onto the canvas, creating a painting that unveiled hidden truths to its viewers.
But one day, a man named Dominic entered the gallery. Unlike the others, he looked at the paintings with calm indifference. He neither shed a tear nor showed fear. When he approached Godfrey, he asked in a cold voice,
"Why don't your works affect me?"
Godfrey froze for a moment. How could this be? Every human who looked at his paintings fell under the influence of the memories within the blood. But this man... he seemed empty.
"Maybe it's because there's nothing to see inside you," Godfrey replied with mocking disdain.
Dominic chuckled. "Or maybe it's because you have nothing left to show."
Godfrey decided to follow him. There was something strange about this man—a mysterious shadow that gripped his immortal mind.
Late that night, Godfrey found Dominic in his apartment. But as he entered, the smell of dried blood filled the air. Dominic was no ordinary man—he was a vampire hunter. He had collected the corpses of those Godfrey had sacrificed for his art and laid out the canvases as evidence of his crimes.
"You thought immortality meant creating art," Dominic said, "but all you've done is immortalize death."
For the first time, Godfrey felt fear. Perhaps the truth lay not in his paintings, but in himself—a hollow soul sustained by the blood of others, creating nothing but shadows of death.
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