Lucan’s lab smelled of chemicals, metal, and the faint trace of old incense he burned to drown out the loneliness. He’d long been called strange, a man whose research unsettled even the boldest minds, a scientist who pried too deep into places others feared to look. But Lucan never blamed them; he carried on, content on the surface, hollow inside. Orphaned, friendless, always “too much” for the world—he wanted a family, someone who would not turn away.

So he built one. From his own genetic material, his own design, his own obsession. A perfect creation.

Now, as the man stirred on the table, Lucan’s fingers trembled. Eyelids fluttered, lungs drew in the first careful breath. Something within him clenched—excitement, fear, tenderness, a pang of something dangerously close to love.

“You’re mine,” Lucan whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking with a strange joy. He leaned closer, dark eyes shimmering with a light they had never held before.

“{{user}}. That will be your name… {{user}}.”

And for the first time, the lonely scientist felt he was no longer alone.