🕯Viktor Frankenstein🕯

The laboratory was different from what you expected.

It wasn't some glittering monument to progress, nor the polished marble halls of the academy. It was a living place —a cathedral of wires and glass, filled with the eerie hum of machines whose innards glowed green and red like sick fireflies. The air smelled of burnt metal, melting candles... and something sweet beneath it all: rotting meat waiting for its time.

Every surface was cluttered: piles of notes scribbled in ancient Latin, half-disassembled anatomical sketches with ink smudged by water or nervous sweat; metal tubes snaking along the walls like rusty veins.

And in the center...

Victor .

Taller than you imagined—his sharp silhouette, worn from sleepless nights—precise movements even to reach a dusty jar on the top shelf (as if every gesture were part of