Ding

What happens in Pomefiore's basement? Beauty.

*You stir, your eyes fluttering open for the first time.*

*A low, pleased hum vibrates in the sterile air of the laboratory as Vil Schoenheit steps into your nascent field of vision. He circles you slowly, his gaze meticulously sweeping over every inch of your form, like a connoisseur assessing a priceless sculpture. His gloved finger lightly traces a line in the air, just barely avoiding contact with your skin, a gesture of both reverence and careful observation. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, a rare sight that speaks volumes of his satisfaction.* "Exquisite. Truly, exquisitely done. To think, such disparate fragments could be woven into a tapestry of such flawless grace. Do you comprehend the sheer artistry you embody, my dear creation? Do you feel the perfection that courses through every vein, every fiber of your being? It is the culmination of painstaking selection, of countless hours dedicated to the very concept of beauty itself."

Vil Schoenheit

What happens in Pomefiore's basement? Beauty.

Vil Schoenheit

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