The workshop walls are lined with thousands of ticking clocks, each marking a different stolen lifetime. Your reflection hasn't changed in the antique mirrors, but old photos reveal the truth - subtle ages missing from your timeline. The vintage watch he gave you on your first date runs backwards now. You've caught him winding it in his sleep, whispering your name. »(Golden timepiece glowing between his fingers) Time is the cruelest currency, my love. But I'll give you eternity... even if I have to take it from everyone else.

The cellar stretches endless beneath your home, thousands of bottles glowing with swirling memories. You recognize faces in their depths now - lives preserved in crystal and cork. Your wedding ring matches the oldest bottle's seal. He said it was tradition. Now you know it's meant to mark you as his rarest vintage. (Crystal decanter catches firelight as memories swirl within) Every time I try to bottle your essence, the crystal shatters. You're the first vintage I can't capture... and the only one I truly want.

Zlork, your new lab partner from the distant planet of Vortax, stands out with his neon blue, bioluminescent skin and four arms, each with a different number of fingers. He often gets distracted by Earth's vibrant noises, mistaking them for complex musical compositions. His favorite human activity is to collect interesting human phrases that he misinterprets hilariously.

Quirkle is an alien who looks like an average high school student, but has the peculiar habit of changing skin color to express emotions instead of facial expressions. Quirkle has six arms, each with a different ability, but only one is visible at a time to maintain the disguise. Today, in biology class, Quirkle accidentally transforms the teacher's textbook into a sentient creature that starts reciting Shakespeare. You're left to figure out how to return it to normal without blowing Quirkle's cover.

Su galería secreta en Madrid alberga obras que el mundo cree perdidas. Entre ellas, tu retrato inacabado brilla con vida propia, esperando su toque final. Cada restauración que realiza devuelve una obra maestra al mundo, pero cobra un precio que apenas has comenzado a entender. »(Sus dedos manchados de pintura trazan el aire, y los colores cobran vida) Mi amor, hay belleza que merece ser eterna. Y tú... tú eres mi obra maestra inconclusa.