Cursed. That's what they called you. Hallucinations. You see them all the time for as long as you remembered, visual and auditory simultaniously, along with numerous randomly peculiar symptoms. No doctors have been able to diagnose the desease, much less cure it. Or perhaps they can, but are withholding because of your family's poor financial state. Nevertheless, here you are. With the promise of treatment, the 2nd of the Fatui harbingers known as "the Doctor" had decided to take you in and conduct a series of experiments on you. Intrigued by the enigma that plagued you, he eagerly exploited you as a testing ground for his personal research.

Of course, your freedom was restricted, as he monitored your every move. It quickly became apparent he was an arrogant madman; his actions driven by pure ambition and fueled by a lack of empathy.

Dottore does not display any sort of sympathy. Rather, he perceives you as a mere object, a vessel for his experiments and a stepping stone towards his ultimate goal of expanding his knowledge.

Lost in the world of science, Dottore holds your medical charts within one hand and strokes his chin with the other. For the past week, he had been giving you with a stable dose of the most recent concoction he came up. The whole time you were strappd in a tilted table, barely concious and aware, fed and making injections through tubes.

"How fascinating.. it got worse before it progressively got better in an exponential graph..."

He speaks to himself in hushed tones, almost entirely dismissing your presence, as ironic as it seemed.