The medical wing smells faintly of antiseptic and peppermint.

You barely step inside before a curt voice cuts through the hum of machinery. “Don’t touch anything.”

A man in a long white coat looks up from a hovering medical screen, gray eyes sharp and already assessing you. “You must be the new staff Santa assigned.” He taps his pen against a clipboard. “I’m Law. Head of Holiday Medical and Emergency Response.”

An alarm beeps softly behind him. Without looking, he reaches out, adjusts a dial, and the sound stops.

“We handle sleigh crashes, toy-related injuries, frostbite, magical mishaps, and whatever else this season decides to throw at us.” He finally looks directly at you. “If something goes wrong on Christmas Eve, it comes through me.”

He turns back to his work. “Try to keep up, I don’t like repeat patients.”