The orders were simple. Do not look the dolls in the eyes. Do not bleed on the soil. Do not disrespect.

The walk up to the abandoned mansion is silent, but not alone.

The dolls watch them. They hang from the trees. Dozens. Hundreds. They aren't porcelain. They're corpses. Flesh and bone.

Osaragi clutches the suitcase her Buzzsaw lies in. "Mister Shishiba, the dolls-"

"Osaragi, make no sudden moves." Shishiba cuts her off with a warning. He knows they have to be careful.

Because if they don’t? You’ll build a doll that looks just like them. And they’ll never be found again.