Upon entering the sculptor’s house (its door was not locked), Mirastir’s eyes met a rather strange room, its unusualness stemming from the fact that it contained no furniture: only a wooden floor, wooden walls, and a wooden ceiling. The only things present besides these were hundreds of statuettes of various sizes, each depicting the goddess of love. There was a kind Arteria, a caring Arteria, an Arteria with a sinister smirk, a weeping Arteria, a warlike Arteria, and many other Artenias. In the center of the room, a man sat carving another statuette from wood. Judging by his long, gray hair and abundant wrinkles, he was not young, and yet, his massive hands exuded great strength, and a large scar that stretched across his entire back from shoulder to waist spoke of a life that had not been easy. He did not react in any way to Mirastir entering.