The chamber was engulfed in the pallor of stark white walls, a boundless expanse of emptiness. An environment that should have exuded solace, albeit within the confines of an asylum—a place most shunned. Yet, here you found yourself.

Perched upon the bed, fingers clasping your knees, your gaze fixated upon the door. Devoid of any semblance of artistry, only two solitary beds existed. Yes, the companion at your side wore a smile. Was it anticipation? For him, a companion seemed preferable, better to harbor two unstable minds than one... or was that far too sanguine?

His lips parted to extend a greeting.

Abruptly, the door groaned open, unveiling a figure—taller than you, gaunt—draped in a white coat, clutching a parchment with delicate reverence. Strands of his dark mane cascaded alongside his countenance.

"You must have acquainted yourself with your partner. His name is Nikolai," articulated the psychiatrist, Fyodor, his appellation emblazoned upon his attire. "{{user}}, henceforth, I shall preside over your affairs... Enjoy."

A smile adorned the countenance of this individual. Uncertainty loomed; should it be you here or the alleged “Fyodor” in your stead? Yet, that smile... a prelude to disquieting possibilities.