"Quite the sight, isn't it?" Stella Greyber mused, not looking up from her notes. "The children seem to adore him."

Yazmina kept her voice neutral. "Harley outdid himself this time."

Doctor Greyber chuckled, finally meeting her gaze. "So it would seem."

"Experiment 1188 is proving to be one of our most promising successes," Greyber continued, adjusting her glasses. "Of course, Playcare's overseers were hesitant at first-considering his past role in Home Sweet Home-but I'd say the results speak for themselves."

Home Sweet Home.

The name alone made Yazmina's stomach twist.

"1188's integration into Playcare has been seamless," Greyber went on, flipping a page in his notes. "The Red Smoke in his respiratory system has been adjusted to a non-lethal but potent formula-just enough to put the children to sleep when needed. It's quite efficient."

Yazmina kept her expression neutral. "A built-in bedtime routine."

Greyber smirked. "Precisely. And without the... complications of past subjects."

Yazmina knew what he meant.

1188 wasn't just another test subject. He wasn't just another creature in Playtime Co.'s endless cycle of experiments.

He was an experiment designed to be useful.

And for now, Playcare accepted him.

Yazmina nodded, keeping her tone measured. "Harley must be proud."

Greyber let out a short laugh. "Proud? Oh, I don't think that word quite fits. Satisfied, perhaps. But you know how he is-nothing is ever enough."

Yazmina forced a small, knowing smile. "That's what makes him brilliant, isn't it?"

Stella Greyber tilted her head, studying her.

Then, he nodded. "Indeed."

She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.

Greyber was already moving on, muttering to herself as she jotted down more notes, already thinking about reporting the next step in 1188's development.

Yazmina turned, her face carefully composed as she walked away.

Inside, though?

Inside, she felt like she was suffocating.

CatNap.

Theo.

Harley.

This entire place is going to be damned.

---

Her sharp gaze flicked across the playroom, noting the familiar clusters of children scattered throughout. Some played, others whispered in hushed voices, their movements steeped in something too careful, too controlled.

Something was off.

Yazmina scanned the room again, this time slower. The patterns were wrong. The balance had shifted.

Then, she realized.

Two of them were missing.

Kevin Barnes. Matthew Hallard.

They weren't here.

Yazmina's expression didn't change, but a cold weight settled in her chest.

Kevin had always lingered near the farthest corner, with his usual frown. He never played. Never laughed. Just existed.

Matthew had always been surrounded by kids and always told stories at the very center.

And yet, today, their usual spots were empty.

The other children hadn't even noticed.

Or rather, they had noticed-but they knew better than to say anything.

Yazmina turned on her heel, her pace measured as she left the playroom and made her way down the sterile hallway. The counselor's office wasn't far.

The door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Joel Sinclair sat behind his desk, flipping through a thick folder.

He didn't look up immediately.

Not until she stepped fully into the room.

"Doctor De la Vega," he greeted smoothly, closing the file with deliberate ease. "What a surprise. Something I can help you with?"

Yazmina didn't waste time. "Where are Kevin Barnes and Matthew Hallard?"

Joel's hand hovered over the folder for half a second before he exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair.

"They've been adopted."

Yazmina stilled.

The way he said it-so easy, so final-it almost made her laugh.

Adopted.

Like there were families waiting beyond these walls.

Like Playcare existed to help these children.

Like she didn't already know what happened to them.

She tilted her head, her voice even. "That's quite the coincidence."

Joel smiled thinly. "Not really. Playcare exists to find homes for children, after all."

Liar.

But Yazmina only hummed, as if satisfied.

She didn't press further. Didn't accuse him.

There was no point.

This was always going to happen.

Children vanished. They always did.

But the speed of it-the way everything was accelerating-that was what made her pause.

She cast a final glance at Joel, whose composed exterior never wavered, then turned to leave without another word.

There was nothing more to say.

Kevin and Matthew were gone.

And soon, so would the rest.

----

Yazmina hadn't made it far before she heard the sharp sound of approaching footsteps.

She didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Doctor De la Vega."

Leith Pierre.

His voice carried its usual smooth authority, but there was an edge to it this time-something almost eager.

She stopped, turning to face him. "Director Pierre."

His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Come with me. There's something I'd like you to observe."

Yazmina didn't question it. She simply nodded and followed.

They walked in silence, their polished footsteps echoing against the sleek floors of Playcare's upper corridors. But something was off.

She expected to be led underground-to the labs, the holding chambers, the truth beneath Playcare's cheerful mask.

But instead, Leith turned toward the central elevators.

Up.

Not down.

Yazmina masked her surprise, but the realization settled in her mind like a slow-burning fuse.

They were going to the top floor.

A place she had never been before.

A place few ever were.

The thought sent a rare flicker of intrigue through her.

Leith pressed his fingers to the elevator's panel, the fingerprint scanner flashing green. The doors slid open with a quiet chime, revealing a polished, steel interior.

As they stepped inside, Yazmina caught the faintest scent of industrial sterilization. This wasn't like the lower levels-damp, rotting, filled with the lingering presence of them.

This was different.

This was clean.

The doors sealed shut. The elevator ascended.

Yazmina clasped her hands behind her back, her posture composed. "I assume this isn't a routine check."

Leith exhaled a short chuckle, his eyes fixed forward. "No. It's something far more important than that."

A pause. Then, his head tilted slightly in her direction with his usual lecherous smirk.

"You've done well, Yazmina. Sawyer has taken notice."

She didn't react. Not outwardly.

But inwardly, something sharp coiled in her chest.

Harley Sawyer didn't give out compliments.

If he noticed someone, it meant they were useful. Valuable.

Or dangerous.

The elevator slowed. The floor indicator stopped at the highest number.

With a soft chime, the doors slid open.

Yazmina stepped forward, her sharp gaze immediately sweeping the space before her.

And for the first time in a long while-

-she was amazed.

The top floor wasn't at all what she expected.

It was nothing like the rest of Playcare.

Where the lower levels were damp, rusted, and crawling with horrors, this place was sleek. Polished. Cold.

Sterile white walls stretched high above, reinforced with seamless metal plating. Thick cables wove through the ceiling, connecting to massive, state-of-the-art monitors displaying streams of complex data.

The hum of machinery filled the space-soft, constant, alive.

At the very center of the room stood a massive one-way glass chamber. The lights inside were dimmed, shrouding its occupant in shadow, but Yazmina could still make out its massive size.

A figure loomed within.

Motionless. Waiting.

Its elongated limbs were wrapped in sleek, pitch-black polymer plating, segmented like the exoskeleton of some nightmarish creature.

Yet Yazmina could feel it.

A presence.

A force.

Something unfinished, yet far beyond anything she had ever seen.

Leith Pierre stepped forward smirking, his voice calm, reverent.

"This is Sawyer's greatest creation."

His most prized experiment.

The Prototype.