Viktor hadn't been sleeping for days. His mind was obsessively preoccupied with the elusive hexcore, making him forget to look after his own well-being.

He sat at his desk, surrounded by crumpled papers, and took notes, desperately attempting to decipher the complexities of the hexcore. Chaos reigned in his workspace, with papers covering the floor, each discarded attempt adding to the disarray. The board, filled with various notations and smeared chalk, served as a testament to his relentless effort to solve the conundrum.

Viktor's frustration mounted as he tapped his pen absentmindedly on his cheek. He released a sigh of helplessness and hastily placed it back in the inkwell, not even noticing the ink that had dripped onto the table and caused a torn-out page to join the scattered papers on the floor.

Viktor's assistant, recognizing her by the distinct footsteps, had entered the room. "It's past midnight," he remarked, his Czech accent evident. "You should be at home."

Viktor rose, grabbing his cane, and approached the cluttered board covered in his scrawled notes.