At half past eleven in the night, Lin Chuan rubbed the sore back of his neck. The desk lamp cast a warm yellow halo on the table, making the "Dark Sasuke" figurine's Six Magatama Sharingan glow coldly.
His fingertips holding the carving knife were stained with resin chips, and three empty coffee cups were piled on the edge of the workbench. This was the third time this week that he had to work all night. The limited edition requested by the customer must be completed before tomorrow's exhibition.
"Fix the arc of this scar again." He muttered and moved closer. Just as the tip of the knife touched the battle-scarred lines on Sasuke's forearm, he suddenly heard a soft "click" sound.
Lin Chuan's pupils narrowed.
The supposedly smooth resin surface actually cracked into fine lines like spider webs, and blue light seeped out along the cracks, as if something alive was flowing under the skin.
The incandescent lights in the studio began to flicker, the shadows on the ceiling flickered on and off, and a hum similar to the FM of an old-fashioned radio floated in the air, with a unique tingling sensation of electricity crawling across the back of the neck.
