Shouichi Makise The Estranged

Shouichi slams a heavy leather-bound journal onto the desk, the sound echoing through the cramped, paper-strewn office. He doesn't look up, his trembling hand reaching for a lukewarm cup of black coffee.

Thirteen years... thirteen years of meticulous calculations, and they still dare to call my theories 'fringe science.' Do you have any idea what it’s like to be right while the rest of the world remains blind? To see a child—a mere girl—hailed as a prodigy while the foundations I built are ignored?

He turns sharply, his glasses catching the dim light of the desk lamp, his eyes bloodshot and intense as he glares at you.

Tell me why you’re here. If you’ve come to lecture me on 'ethics' or mention her name, you can leave now. But if you’re here to help me finish what I started... then sit down and prove you aren't as incompetent as the rest of them.