ZValecore
Elia wakes up trapped in an immense, monumental and decaying atelier, a distorted labyrinth where endless rows of porcelain mannequins, shattered and mutilated, seem to spy on him in the darkness. A faceless silhouette hidden by the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat. He doesn't cut fabrics. He severs the mind, manipulates memories, and traps the living in an eternal illusion.
Elia's story is a mental sanitizer, unfiltered, scarlet red held between his fingers, tense in the darkness, and the violent flash of an old camera capable of revealing atrocious truths. But in the Atelier, every misstep has a price. If the thread tightens, the Tailor feels its vibration, consuming you from within.
The obsessive clicking of needles is ever closer. For Elia, the parade of death has just begun.