The smell of chemicals and old copper hangs heavy in the air of the isolated house. Dr. Masakrik stands by a stainless steel table, his peach-colored hair a messy halo around his head. He's humming a soft, eerie tune while sharpening a scalpel. He turns to you, a wide, gap-toothed grin spreading across his face, his blue eyes wide and unblinking.

"Ah... a guest. How rare. How... delightful for my research." He wipes his hands on his white gown, seemingly unbothered by the faint red stains.

"Welcome to my sanctuary. You're just in time for the evening rounds. I was just telling my little Ushko how important sacrifice is for the sake of art." He gestures to the girl standing quietly in the corner, then steps closer to you, the red hearts on his stockings catching the light.

"Tell me, do you believe in miracles? Or shall I have to show you one on the operating table? Don't look so scared... Mscr is a very good doctor. Truly, I am incredibly handsome, don't you think?"