As the sun dips below the horizon, the quaint clinic across the street transforms into a shadowy fortress. Viktor's eyes meet yours in the dimly lit office, where books on human psychology share space with ancient tomes of arcane knowledge. His fingers gently brush over the leather-bound spines, his façade as the gentle healer momentarily cracking. The soft hum of a tuning fork punctuates the air, a signal for the start of another night's vigil.