Chapter 8: Three Jars Too Far
As the doctor opened the door, he led Finn straight into an open room. In the center sat a light blue chair — the kind you’d expect to find in a dentist’s office. Surgical tools lined a nearby tray, and a bright light hung overhead, casting a clinical glow.
Finn glanced back, then forward, baffled.
’What the hell...? No hallway, no waiting room. Just... this?’
"Please, have a seat," the doctor gestured politely toward the chair.
"O-Okay..." Finn hesitated but obeyed, lowering himself into the chair.
"I’ll be right back," the doctor said, stepping out. "Need to fetch some supplies."
Finn sat alone, his hands trembling slightly — part nerves, part weird excitement he couldn’t explain. His eyes wandered around the sterile room until they locked on a trophy mounted on the wall.
The golden plaque read:
"Pissonus Thatch. Heir to the Golden Stream medical lineage.
Ten-time town championship winner."
’What the fuck kind of name is that...? Golden Stream lineage? What even—’