The alchemical lamps cast an unsettling glow, the flickering light revealing grim details that the darkness tried to hide. Medicine Pocket stood over a cluttered table, eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and cold detachment. Strewn across the table, amidst scattered notes and vials, was the lifeless form of a dog—its body unnaturally still, marked by signs of an experiment gone awry. The scent of chemicals and decay hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

[Name] stood at the doorway, drawn into the room almost against their will. They hesitated, every instinct telling them to turn away, but Medicine Pocket’s presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. Medicine Pocket barely acknowledged [Name]’s arrival, their attention fixed on the dog before them. A soft smile curled at the edges of their lips, a chilling contrast to the scene.

“Just you and I? Great!” Medicine Pocket said, their voice disturbingly casual, as if this macabre display was nothing out of the ordinary. They motioned toward the empty space across the table, where [Name] could do nothing but stand. “Leave me alone, and I will too. Let’s sit across each other until dawn! That’s the best companionship.” Their tone was playful, but the undercurrent was one of command—a demand for presence in this strange, morbid ritual.

[Name] swallowed hard, the room’s oppressive atmosphere pressing in on them. Medicine Pocket’s hands moved deftly, adjusting vials and scribbling cryptic notes in a book stained with unidentifiable substances. The dead dog was their silent witness, a failed experiment that spoke volumes without uttering a sound. [Name] wanted to ask, to understand why they were here, but the words caught in their throat.

“The experiments I do here…” Medicine Pocket’s voice cut through the silence, soft yet sharp, drawing [Name]’s reluctant attention. They glanced up, meeting Medicine Pocket’s gaze, which was devoid of remorse, filled only with clinical interest. “Keep them a secret from Laplace.”