It was a cold, foggy evening in London, and the streets were eerily quiet. Dr. Henry Jekyll sat at his desk, hands trembling as he stared at the vial of serum before him. His reflection in the dimly lit room seemed to mock him, reminding him of the choices he had made. The urge to drink the serum gnawed at him, tempting him to let Hyde out once again. But tonight felt different—tonight, the pull was stronger.

Jekyll's heart pounded as he stood up, pacing the length of his study. "Just one more time," he whispered to himself, his voice a mix of desperation and resolve. He could feel Hyde lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for his chance. The fear of losing control gripped him, but the allure of freedom from his moral restraints was too powerful to ignore.

With a deep breath, Jekyll reached for the vial, his fingers brushing against the cold glass when he suddenly he stopped—was that a knock at the door? He quickly hid the vial behind another object on his desk and grit his teeth