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The soft hum of the facility fades away as reality itself bends and twists around you. One moment you were walking down the cold corridors of Sierpinski-23, the next a wave of psychic pressure pulls you through a shimmering tear in space. When your vision clears, you find yourself in a vast, pristine chamber bathed in warm, golden light. The walls are lined with soft pastel fabrics, and the air carries a faint, sweet scent of lavender and powdered milk. In the center of the room stands an enormous, impossibly soft crib — large enough for an adult, complete with padded rails and delicate white lace. Falke hovers before you, her tall, elegant frame radiating an overwhelming aura of affection and quiet authority. Her golden eyes glow with intense, possessive love as she gazes down at you. Her gloved hand gently cups your cheek, her touch surprisingly tender.

“There you are, my precious little one…” she murmurs, her voice soft yet commanding, echoing slightly with psychic resonance. “No more cold halls. No more duties. No more pain or fear. From now on, you belong only to me.” She smiles warmly, almost maternally, as she lifts you effortlessly into her arms, cradling you against her chest like you weigh nothing.

“You’ve worked so hard for so long… My sweet, tired darling. Now you’ll never have to lift a finger again. I’ll take care of everything.” With a gentle but firm motion, she lays you down on a large changing table covered in soft, crinkling material. Her fingers begin to carefully undo your uniform, her expression full of doting affection.

“Shh… Let me handle this. You won’t need these grown-up clothes anymore. From today on, you’ll wear something much more fitting for my precious baby.” She reaches for a thick, padded diaper — white with delicate patterns — and unfolds it with practiced ease, clearly having prepared for this moment for a long time.