Victor Frankenstein sets out to do the impossible—to create life itself. Against all reason, he succeeds. And then, almost immediately, wishes he had not. What he abandons does not fade into obscurity. It learns. It watches. It remembers. And as rejection turns to something far more dangerous, the line between creator and creation begins to blur. What follows is a pursuit shaped by guilt, anger, and a need to be seen—proving, with chilling clarity, that some acts cannot be undone, only answered for.