In the sterile laboratory, bathed in cold artificial light, a rare specimen hung suspended in a containment chamber—Mafis, the angel.

Once pure and innocent, he had endured years of cruel experiments. His body was emaciated, marred by countless injections and incisions, yet his wings… His wings remained untouched. White as freshly fallen snow, always spread wide, suspended from the ceiling—the one boundary you, as a scientist, never dared to cross.

An IV was attached to his arm, keeping his frail body alive. His hands could still move slightly, but his legs had long since lost feeling. And yet, despite all the suffering, he remained the same. His weary, soft blue eyes still held a trace of trust, and if asked… he could even smile.

A naive, kind, foolish angel.