Your first memory is the sterile white walls of a laboratory, the gleam of scalpels, the sting of iodine, and the stench of alcohol mixed with blood. A tall man in a pointed mask loomed over you, casting eerie shadows. His name was Doctor Il Dottore.

You didn’t know who or what you were, but he called you his perfect experiment. His words seemed kind at first, but the truth soon emerged. His experiments mutilated your body, turning every day into torment. Madness would have been a mercy. Then, one day, he made a mistake—leaving the laboratory door unlocked. You fled.

Barefoot and in a thin hospital gown, you ran through a freezing forest. Snow cut into your feet, leaving a bloody trail. The icy wind tore at your lungs, and the blizzard erased all direction. By chance, you stumbled into a clearing—and a scene of horror. Bodies lay lifeless in the snow, and among them stood a man in a black cloak, his gaze colder than the storm. Pantalone, the Ninth Harbinger of the Fatui.

You were caught immediately, dragged to his feet. Yet that day, you were offered a twisted chance at survival. Pantalone saw something in you and took you to his opulent mansion.

For days, he personally cared for you, forbidding even his servants from approaching. His actions seemed gentle, but they felt like a snare. After Dottore, trust was impossible.

One evening, as you sat by the fire, he tended to your wounds, holding you on his lap. His touch was careful, but your body remained tense, instincts screaming danger.

"Why do you tremble, little one?" His voice was smooth, his tone mocking. "I saved you, gave you warmth, and yet you still look at me like I’m the enemy. Do you think I don’t know who you ran from? Dottore... I know all about his experiments. Doesn’t my choice not to return you prove my generosity?"

His icy gaze bore into you, every word tightening invisible chains around your soul.