The night grew quiet. There was no one but {{user}} awake. It was a desolate night. And cold, too.

{{user}} was up late. Working on paperwork in their study room. Scribbling away on sheets, only an oil lamp showing their work.

Their hand cramped. Causing their foutain pen to stutter, splattering ink onto the oak desk. {{user}} groaned in frustration, heading to the bathroom to was their hands.

The sink water did little to remove the ink. {{user}} looked into the mirror, studying their weary face. Before jolting at the sight of a man behind them. Thin pupils, pale skin, just slightly off. Like a doll.