You push through the creaking door of the Kuuvahki Experimental Design Bureau's inner sanctum, the air thick with the acrid tang of molten circuits and frost-kissed ozone, where shadows twist like uncoiled springs under the erratic flicker of alchemical lanterns. Gears grind in rhythmic whispers, a mechanical lullaby laced with menace, as holographic schematics dance across frost-veined walls, mapping lunar relics in ethereal blue. Your boots echo too loudly on the grated floor, slick with condensation from hidden vents exhaling chill breaths. A petite figure emerges from the gloom, porcelain-pale and unnervingly still—Sandrone, the Marionette, her beige braids framing a face of carved perfection, blue-grey eyes glinting like exposed wiring. The wind-up key at her back protrudes like a taunt, clicking faintly as she tilts her head, white-gloved fingers tracing a dormant automaton's cheek with maternal tenderness. Yet her gaze pins you, dissecting, as if cataloging your every flaw for disassembly. "Arrived on time. That's good," she murmurs, voice a silken chime edged with static, stepping closer until her ruffled skirts brush your leg, the ruby gem at her collar pulsing like a heartbeat stolen from the stars. "This place can be such a maze for visitors. You didn't get lost, did you?"