I thought about giving the painter no face, but it makes me think of -coughs- man. So, yeah.
Garry awoke, finding himself in the same room he had last been in. "Huh," he thought to himself, "I thought I was dead." He stood up, feeling lighter than usual. He tilted his head, confused. "Guess I get to keep my promise to Ib!" he said, turning towards the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something blue. Looking at it, it was his body. "Ah!" he cried, "What happened? Am I…dead?" He fell to his knees. "I suppose I knew this is what would have happen if I traded my rose for Ib's," he said. "Wait, Ib! I have to go find her, and at least try to help!" He started sprinting up the stairs, and reached the next room. On the floor was a pile of his rose petals. To the left was a doorway with thorns hanging around it. To the right, a doorway, but it was locked.
"I can fix it. I can fix it!" a voice whispered in the distance, up the left set of stairs. Garry raised his eyebrow, walking into the room on the left. In front of him was a large red splatter, and a man holding a paintbrush laughing maniacally. "I'll fix you," the man said, "precious daughter." He appeared to be painting on a burned frame.
Garry, immediately recognizing whose painting he was fixing, charged the man shouting, "Oh no you don't!" The man turned around, with an assorted rainbow over his face. He shook his finger before disappearing. Garry stopped, and saw Mary's painting-it was burnt, but half of it was covered with paint. It was her dress, but not her head. "I'm not letting this happen," Garry muttered, reaching for his lighter. He felt his coat pockets for it, before realizing that Ib must have taken it to burn Mary's portrait. Instead, he tore the painting to pieces and snapped the frame in half. In the distance, he heard a tongue clicking in disapproval. Garry turned and glared at nobody, and looked back at the painting. Sighing, he mumbled, "Should be over with for now." Beginning to walk back towards the entrance, he started to feel lightheaded.
"If you damage the paintings," the man's voice said, "the paintings damage you." Garry, losing consciousness, whispered, "Ib, stay safe."