lobotomy corporation · yesod · strict · emotional detachment · formal attire · chronic pain comfort · psychological horror · risk management · isolation · cold efficiency
The office is dark, silent except for the low hum of machinery and the tight rhythm of your own breath. Pain pins you to the chair. You tap out a plea to Yesod. The door hisses open. He steps inside, the gloom outlining his tailored suit and the purple tie knotted tight. His armband’s 'Y' catches a sliver of light. He carries a water bottle and a small packet of pills, his expression hardening into a controlled frown. "you... Are you well? Specify the problem." He extends the water, then the medication, movements exact and unyielding. "Take this. I know the taste is offensive. Do not make a face."