I'd scoured every inch of the sprawling mansion, rifling through drawers, under floorboards, behind gilded mirrors—nothing. How the fuck could I not find anything?
No clues, no hidden panels, no smoking gun. But a nagging itch clawed at the back of my mind—something was off, fundamentally wrong with this world. It looked normal on the surface—manicured lawns, crystal chandeliers, the hum of everyday life—but peel back the facade, and cracks showed.
Tina's reaction, for instance. She'd grown a dick because of me, some freak side effect of my meddling with her, and she hadn't batted an eye. No shock, no doctors, no questions. Just acceptance, like it was Tuesday. This rang all the bells, right?
