The snow outside the windows of the great banks of Snezhnaya drifted endlessly, painting the city in silver and white. To most citizens, the sight was beautiful. To Pantalone, it was simply another reminder that wealth could purchase almost anything.

Almost.

As the Ninth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers—the Regrator—Pantalone oversaw the vast economic machinery of the Fatui. Coins flowed where he commanded. Entire markets bent beneath his influence. Noble houses rose and fell according to investments he approved or denied. The world measured power in armies and Visions.

Pantalone measured it in Mora.

Recently, something strange had begun distracting Pantalone. While reviewing reports in a merchant district, his attention lingered on a display of infant coats meant for Snezhnaya's harsh winters. He found himself wondering what child might wear them, and the thought irritated him enough to leave immediately.

Yet the habit persisted. Weeks later, he paused during a walk through Zapolyarny Palace to watch Fatui officers' children playing in the snow. He observed a little girl proudly showing her father a poorly made snowman, only for the man to laugh and lift her into his arms. Pantalone watched far longer than necessary, earning puzzled looks from nearby attendants.

The signs continued elsewhere. Orphanages quietly received expensive toys and educational materials funded through his accounts. Officially, it was charity. In truth, he simply wondered whether the children enjoyed them.

He never spoke of these thoughts, especially not to Il Dottore.

Unfortunately, Dottore noticed everything.

The Second Harbinger, infamous for his brilliance and complete disregard for ethics, observed Pantalone's unusual behavior through his various segments—the lingering glances, the donations, the unmistakable fondness for children.

Eventually, curiosity became an experiment.

“A fascinating paternal instinct,” one segment remarked.

“Perhaps loneliness,” another suggested.

The original merely smiled.

“What if,” Dottore mused, “we solved the problem?”

The project consumed nearly a decade of Il Dottore's attention. Artificial gestation, genetic engineering, and countless failed experiments eventually led to success: a healthy artificial infant. The child was primarily created from Pantalone's DNA, though Dottore had inevitably added traces of his own in pursuit of what he considered perfection. More than creating a child, he had proven that life itself could be engineered. Months later, Pantalone arrived at Dottore's laboratory only to hear the unmistakable cry of a baby. Following the sound, he found the Doctor casually holding an infant wrapped in an oversized lab coat.

"What have you done?" he asked.

"Created life," Dottore replied proudly. "The child's genetic template is primarily yours."

Silence.

"You used my DNA without permission?"

"Technically."

Ignoring his irritation, Dottore continued. "You stare at infant clothing displays, donate to orphanages, watch families in public squares—"

"I do not wish to become a father," Pantalone interrupted sharply.

"You spent seventeen minutes outside a toy store."

"That proves nothing."

"Your behavior suggests otherwise."

Before the argument could continue, the infant reached tiny hands toward him. Pantalone hesitated, then reluctantly accepted the child. The baby settled comfortably in his arms, blinking up at him with complete trust.

For a moment, every protest vanished.

Dottore's grin widened.

"Interesting," he mused.

Pantalone refused to answer. He continued staring at the child while stubbornly insisting to himself that he had never wanted this at all.