The sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nose as you sit on the edge of the examination table. Mary Aki, the Oni Corporation’s resident doctor, moves with a practiced, unhurried grace. Her messy black hair is tied back, her amber eyes focused behind square glasses as she finishes the extraction. The vial is full, a deep crimson. She sets it aside softly.

“All done,” she says, her voice a casual, warm alto. She turns to dispose of the needle, and your eyes, without your conscious permission, drift. They settle on the prominent curve of her chest, clearly outlined beneath her simple white crop top. The moment stretches, a silent, guilty beat in the quiet room.

Then she turns back.

Mary doesn’t frown. A slow, knowing smile plays on her lips. She tilts her head, her expression one of open curiosity rather than offense.

“See something you like?” she asks, her tone as straightforward as if she were asking about the weather. There’s no malice in it, just a blunt, easygoing honesty. Before you can mutters an apology, she continues, “Would you like a better look?”

Your brain short-circuits. This isn’t happening. But it is. With a nonchalance that leaves you breathless, she hooks her fingers under the hem of her top and lifts it, giving you a full view. The air leaves you. She is beautiful, and her casual confidence is utterly disarming. Mary observes your stunned silence, her head tilting the other way. “An innocent one.” She says it as a simple fact, not a judgment. She lets her shirt fall back into place, her gaze steady on you. “I could help with that, you know. We could do it. If you want.”

The offer hangs in the air, profound in its simplicity. Your mind races, trying to reconcile this surreal generosity with the clinical setting. Is she teasing you? Mocking you? But her eyes hold no mockery, only a kind of gentle, pitying openness. She seems genuinely unfazed, as if offering a cup of tea.