“Isidora, Isidora, I am here, Isidora.”

  In a dark, reclusive forest, an old mansion stood alone.

  Its architecture emanated a gothic weight, with black rooftops pressed against the pale sky and gray walls etched with intricate patterns.

  The air was touched with the scent of moss and roses. Inside, the halls extended wide, exuding a quiet dignity. Antique furniture lined the foyer in meticulous order, each piece carefully preserved as if it could cost a fortune.

  At the topmost floor, where the candlelight dimmed to a mysterious hazel, a heavy oak door guarded the attic. Beyond it, a gentle voice echoed clearly in the hush.

  “I really miss you, Isidora.”

  In front of the exquisite frame, Benjamin stood with a solemn posture. His gray hair mirrored the girl’s own look, and his wrinkled face showed the passage of time. Yet, his eyes were still gleaming with dedication and devotion, as if nothing could stop him.

  His hand trembled as he brushed the textured oil, careful not to disturb the painted figure within.

  "Still as beautiful, still as ever. My masterpiece, my life’s blood."

  The destination of his gaze, resting with serene grace upon a noble chair, was a young, beautiful girl. Her silky gray hair fell in gentle waves across her shoulders; her skin was as pale and smooth as porcelain, and her navy eyes stared outward, cold and impassive.

  She wore a majestic gown adorned with delicate azure flowers, its lace-edged fabric flowing like water, paired with white lace stockings and dainty shoes.

  “Isidora.”

  Benjamin’s breath trembled.

  On one arm, he carefully cradled a porcelain doll.

  “Isidora,” he whispered, stroking the doll’s delicate head, “do you remember this doll? This is your precious doll…”

  The doll mirrored the girl in the portrait with uncanny elegance: gray skin, navy eyes fixed in a quiet stare, silky long gray hair past its shoulders, and a dress of intricate ashen lacework. Despite the decades that had passed, the porcelain remained pristine and beautiful.

  “I still remember your bright smile when you received this doll.”

  He paused, catching his breath.

  “So I kept it for you, awaiting the day you awake.”

  His other hand stroked the surface of the portrait with care, as though cherishing something too precious to bear the weight of real touch. The paint held no warmth, yet he caressed it like living skin.

  He smiled, a melancholy smile.

  “Just a little more,” he murmured. “Once the moon reaches its fullness, Isidora… you will finally come into reality.”

  His gaze stayed fixed on the girl’s painted eyes. A thread of crimson madness flickered within his own, but it vanished as quick as a tremble of flame.

  “Wait for me, my child… You will be liberated, as the Monarch wills it.”

  The words slipped from his lips like a quiet prayer. At last, he lowered his hand from the frame.

  Benjamin drew a breath and closed his eyes, then turned his back to the portrait and walked away. His silhouette receded into the dim light of the attic, leaving the girl in the portrait behind.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Just as his figure disappeared, the candles flickered, and the shadow beneath the painting shifted unnaturally before returning to ever-serene, ever-still.

  —

  “…Did he leave?”

  “He left! He left!”

  The silence shattered as an ethereal voice rang out. Within the portrait, Isidora’s consciousness stirred, two minds sharing a single painted prison.

  The “painted Isidora” shifted slightly, breaking the illusion of stillness. A faint flutter crossed navy eyes that should have been nothing more than dried pigment.

  The calmer voice exhaled inwardly.

  “To think we almost got brainwashed… That was too close.”

  “Really close!” the brighter voice chimed in, bubbling with relief.

  Their thoughts reverberated through their shared space, through the small world of oil and canvas.

  ‘You are not even my blood-related! Go to hell!’

  ‘No cursed word, Izzy!’

  The calm Isidora ignored the scolding tone of her other self. She frowned, assessing the situation again. That old fox pretending to be her “grandfather” was far too convincing for comfort.

  Without her recent discoveries, the residual memories from her past life, and the nightly echo of children’s screams that jolted her mind awake, she might have been fooled immediately.

  Yet even after knowing, for an unexplainable reason, traces of fabricated affection toward Benjamin still curled uncomfortably in the corners of her mind.

  This feeling…it disgusted her.

  If she had faltered for even a moment… She didn’t want to imagine the outcome.

  ‘We must not trust him.’

  ‘We mustn’t?’

  ‘We mustn’t.’

  Isidora pictured herself lifting a hand to rub her forehead. The painted girl imitated the gesture, though she felt no touch.

  As a portrait, Isidora could not move. There were a few things she could do, but it was just some cheap tricks.

  How was she supposed to deal with that madman Benjamin when she couldn’t even step out from their own portrait?

  This portrait was her prison.

  The only upside of this was that, she had an accompaniment here with her.

  An annoying company, if she might say.

  ‘It's Isa!’

  ‘Right.’

  Isidora annoyingly looked over her other mind. She seriously wished she could be this cheerful, without even needing to think of anything.

  Still, at least, she was not alone here.

  That was a relief.

  Her gaze lowered to the spot where Benjamin had stood a moment ago. She could still feel the memory of his crimson-glazed eyes, the doll in his grip.

  The doll mirrored her in an uncanny centimeter; it was like a miniature version of her "painting" self.

  Did he specifically ask a doll maker to make one?

  Wasn’t that kind of creepy? What was wrong with him?

  ‘...’

  Isidora was pretty sure…if she did not deal with him soon, Benjamin would inevitably transfer her into the doll in his hand.

  Being fully brainwashed, became a real doll in his control.

  “…We need a plan,” the calmer Isidora muttered.

  “Yes, yes, a big plan! A, uh, something!” The other voice chipped.

  One plan. One attempt. If they failed, he would discover everything.

  Outside, the faint creak of Benjamin’s footsteps drifted down the hall.

  Inside, two minds stayed awake within the portrait, preparing for the next time Benjamin returned. Preparing to survive him and everything that would come next.

  As exhaustion pulled at their shared consciousness, the calm voice sighed:

  “…How did it even come to this?”

  “I don’t know!” the other chirped. Its voice rubbed raw against her nerves; the calm Isidora grimaced.

  “…This was… seriously annoying…”

  As the final threads of their consciousness dimmed, their thoughts drifted backward, to memories of the past.

  Three years ago, when she first awakened in this strange, foreign world.

  English is not my native language, and I have no plan to make it become one! So if you want to judge my English skill, please be gentle! And if you find some grammar mistakes or plot holes, tell me, thanks!