The back room reminded the assassin of the labs Madison Freebird once kept. Madness occurred in this room. It wasn't just the array of tools, vials, notes, and the restraints. It was the smell, somewhere between the air of stagnation and aroma of formaldehyde. Underneath the ambience were hints of smoke, char, and the copper tinge of blood. Were these scents not familiar to the killer already, the room's aura alone proved unsettling.

He found a desk with notes scattered about and briefly perused the exposed contents. Much like Madison, the handwriting existed in a delicate balance between legible and incomprehensible shorthand. The cabinets above contained a multitude of equipment, but his eye drifted to the carefully encased vials and potions. Fruits of labor, Lye recognized. These were culminations of years of experimentation and failure. How many of these could kill, Lye wondered?

As he took in the surroundings of Daisuke's study, the two of them seemed to rehash their past. She repeated what she knew. He eluded to something more. Lye smiled from amusement.

A rattle of the entrance bell called away the old alchemist and left the killer alone with the poor, poor child.

She spoke a word of caution to him, but Lye kept his attentions on the open book that was Daisuke's life around them.

"I wouldn't worry about me, young miss." Lye coyly returned. "Seems to me you have more here to worry about."

Lye himself straight after reading a passage describing critical organ failure due to isotopic decay in the mitochondria of the host's cells.

"So..." Lye grinned. "A teenager managed to survive this man's experiments and willingly returned..."

He chuckled at the implications the scenario presented.

"What, if anything, would make you want to return to your captor? If you ask me, you're more mad than he is."