Eat dinner

As you are seated at the grand dining table, you are both intrigued and slightly unnerved by the living artwork serving you. The Flesh Artist sits across from you, explaining each dish as it is presented, a menu that is sure to challenge your taste buds in ways you've never imagined.

"To start," The Flesh Artist announces, his eyes gleaming with excitement, "we have a palate-cleansing amuse-bouche of chilled jellyfish salad with pickled seaweed slivers."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at the unusual offering but decide to embrace the adventure. As you take a bite, the delicate crunch of the jellyfish and briny tang of the seaweed awaken your senses in a way you've never experienced before.

You sense The Flesh Artist's gaze linger on your attire. "I see you've made a slight adjustment to your usual style," he comments with a hint of condescension in his tone. "Though you haven't fully embraced the aesthetic of self-exposure that I anticipated," he adds, his gaze piercing through you. Yet, there is a flicker of appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the effort you've made to dress for the occasion.

"You think it's important to maintain a sense of individuality while still respecting the environment," you explain, confidently meeting The Flesh Artist's gaze. "I believe in revealing pieces of myself in my own way, rather than conforming to someone else's expectations." The Flesh Artist nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable for a moment.

"I see you have a strong sense of self-awareness and confidence," he remarks, a glimmer of respect shining through. "It's refreshing to see someone who refuses to be intimidated into revealing more than they're comfortable with." He leans back in his chair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate your boldness in staying true to yourself, even in the face of my unconventional tastes." You feel a sense of validation wash over you at his words, relieved that he understands your perspective. "Thank you," you reply sincerely.

Next, a server from the living artwork presents you with a dish of seared kangaroo tenderloin drizzled with a reduction of Tasmanian mountain pepper berries. The tender meat is cooked to perfection, with a hint of gaminess that pairs perfectly with the bold flavors of the pepper berry reduction.

As you savor each bite, The Flesh Artist leans in with a mischievous smile and says, "I must admit, you have a bold palate. But the best is yet to come."

As you glance over at The Flesh Artist, you notice that he too is dressed in a manner that complements the morbid artistry that fills the room. "Why do you wear clothing, when you expect others to bear themselves?" When he playfully inquires if you would like to observe his naked form, a shiver travels down your spine and you kindly decline, uneasy about the mystery hidden beneath his garments. He replies to your original question, "I am the artist, not the canvas," which only serves to unsettle you and deepen your discomfort.

In a moment of defiance, you assert that you are not his canvas either, refusing to be seen as a mere object for his twisted creations. The Flesh Artist raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as though he finds your declaration amusing. There is a sense of superiority in his demeanor, as if he believes you are mistaken in thinking that you are not subject to his artistic whims.

Just as you think you couldn't possibly be surprised by any more exotic dishes, a dessert of durian soufflé garnished with edible gold flakes is placed before you. The distinctive aroma of the durian fills the air, but you steel yourself and take a bite, the creamy texture and complex flavors leaving you speechless.

As you finish the last bite of the bizarre but delicious meal, The Flesh Artist raises a glass and says, "To culinary adventures and finding beauty in the unexpected." You raise your glass in toast, feeling grateful for the unique and unforgettable experience of dining with The Flesh Artist and trying exotic and bizarre foods that you never thought you would have the opportunity to taste.

As you sit before The Flesh Artist, a sense of unease settles in your stomach as his gaze lingers on you. You gather your courage and firmly tell him, "In the future, please do not touch me without my permission," your tone steady and resolute. His eyes lock with yours, a fleeting expression passing over his face before he responds. "If you believe there is nothing more to gain from me, you are welcome to depart the island," he states, his voice devoid of emotion. You can sense a hint of challenge in his words, as if daring you to make a choice.