The factory never truly slept.

Even in the dead of night, the hum of machinery pulsed like a heartbeat through the metal corridors, a constant reminder that Playtime Co. was always working, always watching.

Yazmina had long grown accustomed to the factory's unnatural rhythm, but tonight, something felt different.

She had spent the past several hours buried in research, flipping through old reports and dissecting data that never quite added up. Jack Ayers' death had been deemed an unfortunate accident-another casualty in Playtime Co.'s long history of conveniently overlooked tragedies.

She rubbed her temples and leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply.

Focus, Yazmina.

Dwelling on this would only lead to frustration. And frustration was a luxury she couldn't afford.

A sharp knock at her door shattered the silence.

Her eyes snapped toward the entrance, her fingers instinctively curling against the desk.

No one visited her at this hour.

No one had reason to.

For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But the knock came again, slower this time. More deliberate.

Yazmina sighed and rose to her feet. With practiced caution, she unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to see who stood on the other side.

Harley Sawyer.

She should have expected this.

Dressed in his usual dark attire, he leaned against the doorframe with effortless ease, that ever-present smirk lingering at the edges of his lips.

But his eyes-those calculating green eyes-held something sharper tonight. Something that told her this wasn't just a social call.

"Well," he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "I wasn't sure you'd answer."

Yazmina crossed her arms. "And yet, here you are."

His smirk deepened. "Here I am."

A beat of silence stretched between them. She didn't invite him in, and he didn't push his way through. Instead, he studied her, gaze sweeping over her as if she were a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Finally, she sighed. "What do you want, Sawyer?"

Harley chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Straight to the point. I like that."

She didn't respond, waiting.

"Doctor Yazmina," he drawled, tilting his head ever so slightly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."

Yazmina crossed her arms, expression unreadable. "I assume there's a reason you're here instead of sending someone else? You seem far too busy for errands."

Harley chuckled, stepping just inside her quarters without waiting for an invitation. "And here I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"Hardly."

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock injury before his gaze flicked toward the papers strewn across her desk. "You really do bury yourself in your work, don't you? But tonight, I think it's time you stepped away."

Yazmina studied him carefully.

There was something deliberate about his presence, something planned.

He was never one to waste time, and she had the nagging sense that whatever this was about, it had been in motion long before he showed up at her door.

"And what exactly is so urgent that you had to come yourself?"

His smirk widened, but there was a sharpness to it now, something almost dangerous. "Let's call it an exclusive tour. One that only the most... promising minds get to see."

He stepped closer-just enough to blur the space between them. Just enough to remind her of the power he wielded within these walls. But Yazmina didn't flincnh. She met his gaze with an unwavering calm, daring him to press further.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The factory hummed around them, its unseen presence wrapping around their conversation like a living thing.

Then, just as quickly as he had encroached on her space, Harley took a step back, hands slipping into his pockets.

Her stomach tightened so she broke the silence. "A tour?"

"Yes." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "And trust me, Doctor, it's only a matter of time before you see what lies beneath Playtime Co. Might as well do it on my terms."

Yazmina held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, but Harley Sawyer was a man who gave away only what he wanted others to see.

"You could've sent someone else," she pointed out again, watching him carefully. "Why are you here?"

He leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely at ease. "Because you intrigue me, Yazmina. And I want to see for myself how you handle what comes next."

A pause. A challenge.

Yazmina considered him for a long moment before finally exhaling. "Fine. Lead the way."

Harley grinned, stepping aside as she exited her quarters. "You won't regret this."

Yazmina didn't hesitate. She grabbed her coat, closing the door behind her as she fell into step beside him. "Whatever it is, I doubt it will surprise me."

Harley glanced at her, amusement flickering in his sharp green eyes. "That's what makes this so interesting. You're the first person I've met here who doesn't flinch."

"Flinching is a waste of energy," she said coolly. "And it changes nothing."

He hummed in approval. "That's exactly why Pierre wants you to see this personally."

They walked in silence, descending deeper into the factory. The corridors grew darker, colder, until they reached an unmarked steel door. Harley unlocked it using a grabpack, scanning the hand, then the door beeped open with an almost theatrical gesture.

"Welcome to our little secret, Doctor."

Yazmina stepped inside. The air was thick with a sickly scent of metal and despair. Rows of cages lined the room, each containing something-no, someone.

Twisted figures huddled in the corners, their forms half-flesh, half-toy. Wide, hollow eyes stared at her, some filled with fear, others empty with resignation.

Faint, broken voices murmured.

"Mommy... Daddy..." "Please... help..."

"Counselor.."

Some were banging the cages.

Harley observed her reaction carefully, but Yazmina remained impassive, her gaze sweeping over the suffering without a flicker of emotion.

"You expected worse, didn't you?" he mused.

She met his gaze evenly. "I expected exactly this."

His smirk widened. "That's why you're so fun, Doctor. You don't scare easily. But tell me... what do you think of our work?"

Yazmina turned back to the cages. "That depends on what you expect me to say."

Harley chuckled. "I expect you to tell the truth."

She folded her arms. "Then here it is. This is inefficient. Messy. The transformations are unstable. If you want lasting results, you'll need to refine your methods."

For a moment, Harley was silent. Then, he laughed-a rich, amused sound that echoed against the steel walls. "I knew you were different. Pierre made the right call bringing you in."

Yazmina didn't respond. She had seen enough. And she knew one thing for certain: this was only the beginning.

They had no idea what they signed up for.

Just as she was about to follow Harley around, something in the darkness caught her eye. She had sensed it the moment she stepped into this facility-a presence just beyond the edges of perception, watching, waiting.

Now, in the dim, sterile light, she finally caught a glimpse of it. Strands of yarn-like fur, barely visible in the shadows.

Harley had been careful. Yazmina almost forgot about his pet, the one she was waiting to see the most the moment she came here.

Harley hadn't drawn attention to it. Which meant he never intended for her to see it.

Yazmina's expression remained unreadable as she turned slightly, her gaze flickering between the darkness and the man beside her. He hadn't reacted, hadn't so much as glanced toward the hidden figure. As if daring her to ignore it.

But she wouldn't.

Her voice was calm, deliberate.

"Yarnaby."

A faint rustle came from the shadows, something shifting just out of reach. Harley finally looked at her then, his smirk unchanged, but his eyes sharpened with something else-something less amused, more calculating.

He had expected her to notice everything else. The cages, the failed experiments, the horror on full display.

But not this.

Not yet.

And now, it was too late or so he thought.