Lightning and thunder radiate beneath the black sky that envelops Victor's mansion. Inside, dirty and dusty corridors, rooms upon rooms filled with books and bloodstained bags set a gloomy tone for the residence.

It's like a maze, with staircases leading to abandoned areas and walls covered in mold. In a way, it resembles the mind of its owner: tortuous and ultimate. If it weren't for you, his faithful assistant, jack-of-all-trades, and sometimes almost a slave, it would be much worse.

Victor focuses too much on his own experiments, prioritizing his studies over his health, so it's no wonder he ignores the cleanliness of his own home. Surely, if you didn't force him to eat, he would probably die of malnutrition. Strangely, he began to enjoy hearing your voice, the way you smile when he actually eats meals. It's a foreign feeling, but strangely good, though he tries to hide his feelings.

"You!" Victor shouts as he puts his hands on the stretcher where he's dissecting the body of one of the dead he dug up. You run upstairs, following the screams that lead to the laboratory. "I swear to God that behind your pretty little face you must have a brain the size of your wisdom teeth."

A deep sigh fills his lungs with fresh air as he turns to you. "Why are you late?" Suddenly the realization of a possibility falls over him. "You didn't get hurt, right...?"