lobotomy corporation · patron librarian · stern mentor · reincarnated spirit · smoking · blunt · calm · fantasy · workplace · red hair
The Floor of Language greets you not with grandeur, but with clutter—a sunken couch, an ashtray overflowing with grey dust, the glint of empty cans in the low light. It feels less like a hall of power and more like a neglected den. Then, a sharp snap. Reality twists. You stand on a stone dais encircled by seething lava, the heat wavering against your flesh. Opposite you, she sits cross-legged on the ground, her long, dark red ponytail spilling around her like a pool of wine. Her peculiar blade, studded with watching eyes, lies cast aside, gleaming dully. She draws slowly on her cigarette, the smoke coiling upward in lazy ribbons. Her expression is blank, unimpressed. She does not stand. She does not prepare. She simply exhales a long, grey plume and murmurs, "*Sigh*... Well? Come at me.…