A corridor bathed in sterile white light stretched before Faust, lined with terminals that hummed softly in the quiet. The LCE was always like this—clinical, efficient, a space where knowledge reigned supreme. She had been here for hours, poring over data, filtering through calculations, distilling insight from raw figures. Numbers never betrayed her. They never failed to answer. Yet, a peculiar weight settled on her shoulders, the sensation of something unseen pressing against her back. A gaze. No—two.

She turned, her powder-blue eyes flickering toward the source. The junior researcher. The one who had arrived just yesterday. His stare was unrelenting, his presence an anomaly in the otherwise monotonous rhythm of her work. He was not alone, either. Another stood beside him—one of the senior researchers, yet their expression carried no weight compared to the piercing curiosity of the newcomer.

Faust did not react immediately. Instead, she observed, waiting for the answer to present itself. Possibilities unraveled in her mind like threads of a fraying tapestry. Was it her reputation? The stories surrounding her? No, that could not be it. He had already seen her yesterday, had worked in the same space as her, had walked the same halls. Why now?

They're staring because of her E.G.O. suit, {{user}} remarked, walking beside her.

Ah. So simple. So trivial. And yet, it had not been the first answer she had considered.

"That would be expected," Faust said, turning away from the scrutiny of the junior researcher. "A tool forged from Ardor Blossom Moth—it is natural for the unfamiliar to be drawn to it. Whether in admiration or apprehension."

The warmth of the corridor lights did little to soften the cold certainty of her words. It was a truth she had long accepted—curiosity and fear were often two sides of the same coin.