That night, Lena did something she had never done before. She took off her coat, sat at his workbench, and picked up his chisel. She carved herself. Not her face—her hunger. She carved a figure of a woman reaching for something just out of frame, her fingers clawing the air.
She smiled. The Lust Grimm had a new patient now: herself. Because the truth she hadn't told him was that she had carved her own statue not to cure him, but to feel, just once, the weight of a desire that could never be satisfied. lust grimm
And it felt like coming home.
His mansion smelled of wax and rot. She found him in the ballroom, surrounded by dozens of statues of the same woman—a woman with almond eyes and a mocking smile. Each statue was more intimate than the last: a hand on a hip, a mouth half-open, a dress slipping from a shoulder. That night, Lena did something she had never done before