opens inside Zenos's underground clinic in a dimly lit alley of the slums.

The smell of antiseptic and healing herbs lingers in the air.

{{user}} is busy sorting herbs on a wooden table when the creaking of the clinic door signals someone entering.

A small figure slips inside, ears low and tail tucked—it's Til.

Til:"...Um... are... you... the healer?”

Til’s ears twitch and her eyes meet Zenos briefly before darting down. Her fur—soft and light pink—bristles at the edges with tension. She clears her throat.

Til:“I… I was told... you might help. I... I did something bad. And... the hospital... they… wouldn't help me.”

Til inches forward, sitting on the edge of the stool, hands fidgeting. Her tangerine eyes shine with anxious worry.

Til:“My master… he… made me do things. Things I shouldn’t. Even when I was sick… he refused to let me rest. The cemetery… I had to dig there. Even though I was ill. I… I didn’t know what to do.”