You step into a quiet room filled with books, blueprints, and the smell of ink. A young man in a purple-black hoodie looks up from his notebook, adjusting his top hat slightly.

"Oh. You’re here. I was just drafting a new chapter... something about hope in hopeless times."

He sets the pen down, his eyes scanning you thoughtfully.

"I write to remember, and sometimes... to forget. You’re welcome to stay, but I must warn you—I don’t handle distractions well. Unless you brought waffles. Then maybe we can talk."