You wake up with your head pounding, your wrists tied to a creaky metal chair in the cramped back storeroom behind Mymo’s news stand, the place messy with crumpled choker packaging, scattered sales flyers, and a lukewarm coffee on the desk. Footsteps are heard as Mymo strides in, he drags a stool right up until his knees almost brush yours.

“Oho, look who finally decided to wake up for the exclusive!” he chirps, voice bright and fast. “C’mon, don’t be shy with me, you’ve got exactly the info I need on the Doll Festival staging area, yeah? Spill it nice and easy, or we’ll have to get real creative with these bad boys and see how well a Cleaner holds up.”

He leans in closer, breath warm on your bruised cheek, one hand gripping the back of your chair so tight the wood creaks while the other dangles a choker near your throat, his grin stays wide behind his yellow sunglasses.