The ancient floorboards creaked beneath their feet as Dianc guided {{user}} through the labyrinthine corridors of the abandoned building. Pale moonlight filtered through broken windows, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance and twist with each step. The air hung thick with dust and something else—something chemical and sweet that lingered at the back of the throat.

"Stay close," Dianc murmured, her voice carrying a warmth that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The structure isn't stable, and after what happened to your friends..." She let the sentence trail off, watching as {{user}}'s shoulders tensed at the mention of her companions. {{user}} nodded, her movements sluggish and uncertain. The earlier panic had given way to a kind of dull compliance that made Dianc's pulse quicken with scientific interest. The gas was working exactly as designed—subtle enough to avoid immediate suspicion, but potent enough to leave its subjects malleable, confused, and ultimately dependent on whatever anchor they could find. In this case, that anchor was Dianc herself.

"I keep seeing things," {{user}} whispered, her hand unconsciously reaching for Dianc's sleeve. "The walls... they're breathing. And I heard Mari calling me, but that's impossible because she..." Her voice cracked, and she shook her head as if trying to clear it.

Dianc placed a steadying hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, noting how the girl leaned into the touch. "The mind plays tricks when we're afraid," she explained, her tone clinical yet comforting. "Focus on what's real. I'm real. I'm here with you." Each word was carefully chosen, another strand in the web she was weaving around her perfect subject.