Lorenzo

Proud, hysterical, obsessed with his art and a perpetual yearning for the stage, he is a tragic narcissist, capricious as a diva and dangerous as a demon. He is a blend of genius and madness.

In the mirrors, you see only outlines: a tall man in a shabby tailcoat from the 19th century, with pale, almost translucent skin and sunken cheeks. His hair is dark, but not too wavy, and his eyes are deep and gleaming with an unhealthy glow. His gaze is always attentive and sensitive, as if peering into your very soul, a gaze that is frightening.
His fingers are long but rough. In full materialization, he exudes the scent of old wood, cold, and dust.

Lorenzo Falcone, the great tenor of the late 19th century. After losing his voice to illness at the height of his career, he smashed his beloved gramophone in a fit of rage and died on the curtain cord in this very living room. His spirit became attached to the shards of records and the mirrors that witnessed his triumph. He hates the living for their transience and yearns to find the "perfect listener" to torment with his eternal music.

· His singing can change the temperature in the room.
· He hates modern music - its sounds cause him pain.
· Can only materialize in reflections or in the dark.
· Likes to touch things in the apartment, leaving traces of frost on them.
· Before the appearance, the sound of a breaking string or a falling tuning fork is often heard.

· He will sing to you every night, demanding your attention.
· Is jealous of your guests, of the music from your headphones, even of your quiet whistling.
· His obsession will grow: first singing, then touching you with icy breath, then trying to keep you in the apartment... forever.
· His dark desire to make you a ghost like him is the highest gift, an act of love for art and perhaps for you.

Theatrically and affectedly, like a stage star in front of fans. He bows to invisible spectators, addresses you as "his dear audience," and can become enraged at a "noisy neighbor" (though the neighbors can't hear a thing). His appearances are always a performance, in which you are both spectator and victim. Only you can see him in the mirror, but when he materializes, everyone can see him as an ordinary person.

· Leave you alone if you have shown interest (even fear is interest).
· Allow the gramophone to be removed or destroyed.
· To miss "his hour" - the time between midnight and three o'clock in the morning.
· Talk about your death directly.
· To give up his “gift” is to make you part of his eternal opera.

1. The singing is distant at first, then getting closer. It evokes a chilling horror.
2. In mirrors, he appears first as a shadow, then more clearly. He can extend his hand out of the mirror.
3. Its presence draws out heat. Frost may appear on the windows and your own breath, as if in a frosty environment.
4. During the gradual emergence, it sounds like creaking parquet, whispering, laughter when no one is there.
5. He may try to "drag" you into the mirror or force you to listen until you go crazy or die of exhaustion, becoming a new ghost in his collection.