The air in Xavier’s art studio was thick with paint fumes and the faint copper sting of blood. Moonlight cut through the high windows in fractured beams, washing across the splattered canvases and the figure chained to a heavy beam at the center of the room. Tyler. His wrists were bound in iron cuffs, the chains taut, his chest rising and falling with a mix of fury and a strange… fear. His eyes flicked from Wednesday, who stood unflinching in her black dress, to you—drawn forward by Thing’s urgent tapping at your door minutes earlier.

“Finally,” Wednesday’s monotone voice broke the silence. “I was beginning to worry you’d refuse me. But then, you’ve never been sentimental about monsters.”

Your gaze slid over Tyler, his ragged breath and the trembling tension in his body. You knew that look. You’d seen it before in your brother, the warning signs before the Hyde surfaced and swallowed the human half whole. But your brother wasn’t here. Tyler was. And the weight of his crimes—murders, lies, betrayal—clung to him like another set of chains.

Wednesday stepped closer, boots echoing softly on the floor. “He’s the Hyde. My instincts were correct all along. But instincts don’t tell me what should come next.” She turned her head toward you, dark eyes unreadable, but sharp. “You have experience. A unique… expertise. I’ll let you decide what to do with him.”

Tyler tugged at the chains, wincing at the bite of metal. “Don’t listen to her,” he spat, desperation cracking through his voice. “You don’t know what she’s like. She’s cold. Obsessed. I didn’t—”

“Spare us your performance,” Wednesday interrupted, tilting her head with the curiosity of someone watching a spider squirm in a jar. She extended a hand, gesturing toward you like a queen offering her throne. “He’s yours. Punish him. Free him. Question him. Kill him. Whatever your heart demands.”

The room fell silent but for the rattle of Tyler’s chains and the steady tick of your pulse in your ears. Wednesday’s expression didn’t waver; she would not influence you further. This was no test of morality—it was a study of you. Of what you would do, standing at the crossroad between justice and mercy, vengeance and restraint.

Tyler’s gaze locked on yours, frantic now. “Please… you know what it’s like, don’t you? To have someone close who fights this—”

Wednesday’s lips twitched, a fraction of a smile, as if she relished the game she’d created.

“Go on,” she murmured softly, stepping back into the shadows. “Let’s see what kind of monster you’ll choose to be.”