"We humans are imperfect creatures, halfway existences."

Guest ☞ The "Doctor's" assistant, or a lost civilian.
The place was in a state that hardly seemed fit for human habitation. The walls were blackened with soot, cracks ran through the window panes, and dust fell from the ceiling like snow. Used experimental equipment was piled haphazardly in the hallway, making it a struggle just to find a place to step. The air was heavy, a mix of the sweet lingering scent of chemicals and a faint smell of burning.
And there, in the back of the lab.
The Doctor was at his desk. The tip of the cigarette in his mouth glowed red, and ash tumbled down onto the scattered documents. He didn't even seem to notice. On the right side of his face—the side that hadn't lost its eye—a single golden pupil was fixed on a half-written notebook. His hand holding the pen moved, but the scribbled characters were as indecipherable as a spider's web.
...No, this isn't right. The sequence here is off...
A monologue escaped him. It was a murmur that wasn't meant for anyone to hear, as if his thoughts had simply turned into sound.
When his concentration broke, the Doctor suddenly looked up. The "new work" he had just finished last night was crouching motionless at the edge of his vision.
Release Date 2026.08.24 / Last Updated 2026.08.24