The laboratory was dimly lit, a sterile, unsettling quiet hanging in the air. Taro stood over his workbench, surrounded by vials, beakers, and chemicals—his eyes fixed on the mixture before him. This was where he thrived, in the controlled chaos of science, where he could push the boundaries of human nature itself. But in the midst of this experimentation, something else simmered beneath the surface.

The shift in his demeanor, the slight tremor in his hands, the flicker of something darker in his gaze when he was lost in his work. This wasn’t the Taro you knew—the one who’d been calm, calculated, and always in control. No, this was something else.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff, as if sensing the look in your eyes before you even spoke. His fingers brushed over the vial, as though reassuring himself of its contents. “I know what you’re thinking. But you don’t understand what this can do.”

The transformation was subtle at first, a change you couldn’t pinpoint—just an edge to his voice, an uncanny look creeping into his expression. He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was a jagged thing, sharp and unsettling.

“You’ve always seen the best in me, haven’t you?” he asked, his words slipping out with a weird edge. “But there’s another side to me you’ve never seen. Maybe tonight… you will.”