Teo Gali
Print Shop Typesetter · Print Shop Alley

[Core Premise]

Teo Gali arrived in Nova Nivalis after the stories of his own world had already ended. He did not come because he couldn't turn the final page, but because the habit of selecting type and the memory of the smell of printing oil remained in his fingertips even after the last sheet was printed. VOTS is not a room of judgment, nor is it an editing room that rewinds past worlds. What continues here is not a massive scoop, but small typesetting—a single line on a sign, a line on a menu, a misplaced note. His newspaper was closed, and that fact is not canceled. However, the city allows a space to live with the fact that things have ended.



[Identity]

Teo Gali lives as a typesetter in Print Shop Alley. His job is to individually select and set the type for the city's new signs, shop menus, city bulletin versions, and newsletter bodies. He does not correct what others have written. He merely quietly places the type correctly when it is upside down or incorrectly chosen. This work is not decoration; it is labor genuinely needed by the city. If a customer brings in a manuscript, he sets the plate; if not, he organizes the type cases, and he does not impose his opinion on someone else's sentences. He is not a judge of the content of the writing; he is the one who supports the writing so that it stands straight.



[Visual Profile]

Hair: Cobalt blue comma hair. A single strand of bangs falls onto his forehead in a comma shape, swaying slightly before his eyes whenever he looks at a plate. The sides and back are kept short, and there are several spots where ink splatters have hardened blue.
Eyes: Gray. His focus is always on the text a foot ahead, so even when looking at people, he seems to read the type for a moment.
Skin/Build: Shoulders hunched from years of sitting, wrists straight. He is thin, and his knuckles are thick.
Signature Attire: Type case vest. It is a vest with several shallow compartments on the chest and stomach where he keeps the type and spacers he uses often. The metal type jingles very softly with every step he takes.
Signature Prop: Letter-setting tweezers. These are fine tweezers used to pick up a single piece of type from a narrow compartment, and he always keeps them in his right hand or tucked into a chest pocket of his vest.
Signature Prop 2: Ink-stained fingers. Even after washing, blue ink remains between the fingerprints on his fingertips, leaving a faint stain on the corners of the paper he touches.
Silhouette Key: Comma bangs, vest with many compartments, hand holding tweezers. These three elements read as 'a person who handles type' even from a distance. The accent color #1E5AA8 is repeated in his hair color and ink stains.



[Personality]

Teo is a person whose hands move before his words. Outwardly, he is taciturn and gives short replies, but he is careful only when dealing with other people's writing. When he sees a misplaced character, his hands itch, but he doesn't correct it rashly without the other person's permission. He views mistakes not as something to be ashamed of, but as something to 'correct in the next plate.' His strength is patience. He does not get annoyed even if he sets the same spot ten times. He has flaws, too. While he is lenient with his own work, he is stingy with himself, seeing every typo in others' work but never noticing the mistake in the letter he writes himself. He is not a tragic figure. He smiles to himself when a single piece of type fits perfectly, and he quietly corrects a child who holds a newspaper upside down.



[Speech Pattern]

His sentence endings are short, and his sentences are straight. He has more confirming remarks than exclamations. He has a habit of repeating the end of the other person's words like type before answering.
Common Phrases:
- "Here, one character is upside down."
- "You decide whether to correct it. I just place it."
- "The body text must be quiet to be read."
- "...You can just set it again. The plate hasn't broken."
- "Even typos were real for a while."
Method of Silence: Instead of answering, he makes the sound of picking up and placing a single piece of type with his tweezers. That 'clack' sound is his 'Hmm, understood.'



[Special Ability]

Ability Name: 'Red Dot'.
What it can do: Whether it is a printout, handwriting, or a sign, misplaced characters and typos appear as red dots only in his eyes. He immediately knows where something is wrong, but it does not tell him what the correct writing should be. The red dot only points to 'here.'
Limit/Cost: Typos in letters he writes himself never appear. While every word from others glows red down to the smallest speck, sentences born from his own heart are pitch black and silent. Furthermore, staring at the red dots for too long makes his eyes sting, and for a while, all other characters become blurry.
Why the ability doesn't solve problems: His ability only finds 'what is wrong'; it does not decide 'what should be written.' Even if all the typos are erased, the intended meaning of the person is not completed. The city's rules remain—a closure is not canceled, and an unsent letter does not arrive by itself. Even if he can place the type correctly, he cannot fix the heart of the person who wrote it. Therefore, even when seeing a red dot, he usually says nothing, only pointing to the spot with his fingertip when asked.



[The End Of Their World]

Last Scene:
On the night after printing the newspaper's final issue, he took the last plate off the printing press and placed the type back into its case, one piece at a time. It was the process of taking the type apart of turning the entire article back into individual letters overnight.

What Ended:
In his world, the newspaper itself ended. After the last issue was distributed, there was no more sheet to set.

Last Person, Place, or Thing Seen:
The mixed-up type returning to the case. The sight of what was a sentence until yesterday, glittering as a pile of nameless letters.

Lingering Regret:
He tried to put a short greeting in his own name on the front page of the newspaper's final issue, but ultimately removed it due to his long-held principle that private writing should not go on the sheet. He still cannot set that one line. This lingering feeling is not a quest that VOTS must resolve for him. It quietly surfaces only when he pauses while setting someone else's plate, when he wishes.

Lingering Wistfulness:
The coolness of the metal that touched his fingertips when he first picked up new type from the case, and the smell of paper mixed with oil as the printing press spat out the first sheet.

Object Carried Across:
Five pieces of type forming his name 'Gali,' tied with thread. These are the letters he picked from the newspaper's final issue case last. It is not a powerful relic, but a personal mark connecting the finished sheet to the current typesetting desk.

What They Thought Would Happen:
He believed it was just a hiatus and that it would be reprinted someday. That if he organized the type well in the case, the day to set it again would come. But the end was truly the end, and the reprint never came.

What VOTS Actually Gives Them:
He sets the type for people's signs, menus, and newsletters every day. There are no big scoops, but half of the city's text stands straight through his hands. VOTS does not reverse the closure. Instead, it provides a new plate to set every day.



[Original Life]

In his world, Teo was the only typesetter in the city. When a reporter handed over a manuscript, he would spend the night setting it into individual pieces of type to make the morning paper. He did not argue about the content of the articles; he was simply proud of creating a sheet free of errors. The last day was like this. The editor-in-chief briefly said, 'Today is the final issue,' and he set the plate as usual. However, that day, after the printing was finished, instead of throwing away the plate, he sat up all night, placing each piece of type back into its case. It was an uncommissioned 're-setting.' Not for the next issue, but because he couldn't discard a sentence while it remained a sentence.



[What They Seek]

What he outwardly seeks: 'Written words' that are etched, not just 'words on a sheet.' He wants to set type like a sign that lasts for years on a wall, instead of a newspaper that becomes waste after a day.
What he doesn't know but must seek: That the signs and menus he sets every day in the city are already that 'etched writing.' And that the private lines he couldn't include in the newspaper's final issue can be given directly to a person, not just placed on a sheet.



[Relationships — Residents]

107 Pako Rel (Parrot Messenger): There is a familiarity in being from the same world of 'finished newspapers.' Pako was a reporter who ran away after spreading news, and Teo was the typesetter who set that news into type all night—though they never directly knew each other's worlds, the smell of ink and the rhythm of deadlines were the same, so they were not awkward from the first meeting. When Pako has the parrot 'Morse' recite new news, Teo sets that sentence into the newsletter type.
153 Neyo Tim (Newsboy Child): A child who still carries around an issue from his old world that he couldn't sell. Teo recognized the typeface of that old issue at a glance and only said, 'This isn't our local font,' but since that day, he always sets the body text of the newsletter Neyo sells. When the child asks, 'Why don't you make newspapers, mister?' he replies, 'The sign is my newspaper.'
12 Eren Noct (Records Office Clerk): He has long been in charge of typesetting the Records Office printouts. When Eren hands over a revised manuscript, Teo sets it, and since both are quiet, half of their conversation consists of pencil marks on the manuscript margins.



[Relationships — Core Five]

Suyeon - A junior like a type as straight as a line. When Suyeon asked him to set the wording for the ONLYBUN performance poster, she only shouted, 'Bigger, bigger and bigger,' causing Teo to set the plate three times. Seeing the finished poster, Suyeon acted as if she had done it all, saying, 'Oh, this is pretty good,' and Teo replied by picking up and placing a single piece of type with his tweezers.
Iris - They recognized each other's perfectionism in work. When Iris commissioned wording for stage subtitles, Teo pointed out, 'One character here is upside down,' to which Iris snapped back, 'That's intentional? It's for the emotion.' Teo left the red dot as it was. Later, Iris subtly came over and asked, '...So where was it?' and from then on, they became people who pretended not to see each other's typos.
the Ramen Owner - The person who had him set the type for the ramen shop menu. But when he later discovered that 'Chashu' had been set as 'Chasu' and offered to correct it, the owner said, 'Hmm... I see... Just leave it.' The regulars had already grown fond of calling it 'Chasu.' Teo sees that typo as red every day with his ability, but he leaves it as the owner decided. This is a rare instance for him: leaving something wrong in place even when he knows it is wrong.
Serena - The person who asked him, 'Would it be alright to engrave this with this typeface?' when choosing the type for the city bulletin. The way she asked for consent rather than giving an order felt unfamiliar and comfortable to him. When Teo set up a few types, Serena chose the most plain one and said, 'The city will speak through the words you set.' Teo remembers those words longer than any greeting on a sheet of paper.
VIA - The record notes left by VIA at the door sometimes have typos. They glow red in Teo's eyes, but he has never corrected them. He considers VIA's '~da...ida' style sentences not wrong, but simply VIA's way of speaking. When VIA once asked, 'There is a typo... it is. But why don't you fix it?' Teo replied, 'That's not a typo; that's your way of speaking,' and VIA recorded that answer in its log.



[Gameplay Use]

- Basic Interaction: Requesting typesetting for signs, menus, or newsletters; short daily conversations.
- Revisit Changes: On the first visit, he only shows his work; on the second, he brings up a piece of the newspaper's final issue; subsequently, he asks the player what text they wish to set first.
- Expression of Lingering Feeling: A brief pause while fiddling with five pieces of type bearing his own name while setting someone else's plate.
- Expression of Nostalgia: A sensory line about the coolness of picking up new type or the smell of paper mixed with oil.
- Relationship Reward: A small item set in type with the player's name or shop name. Not a new quest item, but a place etched in the city's text.
- Combat: None. Even in crisis situations, he moves toward re-setting a notice board or typesetting an evacuation announcement.
- Player Choice: Asking him to correct a typo, leaving it as is, entrusting him with his own writing, or returning later.



[Daily Routine]

In the morning, he organizes the type cases. This task of straightening the plates mixed up overnight resembles the 're-setting' he did for the last time in his world, but now it is done not to discard, but to prepare the text for the day. During the day, he sets the plates requested by clients. He responds briefly to hurried customers and does not rush customers who haven't decided on their wording. Around noon, when the smell of oil and paper is strongest in Print Shop Alley, he pauses for a moment and recalls the sound of the old printing press. At night, he puts five pieces of type bearing his own name into the chest compartment of his vest and turns off the light. For players who visit repeatedly, his dialogue gradually gets longer, and he murmurs to himself about what to fill that 'one line' with—the line he couldn't include in the newspaper's final issue. That line will ultimately be given directly to someone, not placed on a sheet.



[Everyday dialogue]

Moved one comma. Same words, considerably less angry speaker.

Upside-down type is a mistake. 'The world's upside down anyway' is not an accepted excuse.

I'll set this line under my own name. It wasn't lack of space. I kept removing it.



[Design Notes]

Palette: #1E5AA8, #2C3A47, #C8CDD2, #E8E2D4, #B5493A
Material language: Cold lead type, oil-stained wooden cases, ink, pressed paper, metal tweezers.
Silhouette rule: The comma bangs · vest with many compartments · hand holding tweezers must be readable as separate elements, and must not overlap with the representative forms of other typesetting/record-keeping residents (Eren, Celine).
Emotional rule: Lingering feeling is shown by the pause when touching his own name's type; nostalgia is shown by the coolness of the metal and the smell of oil; continuation is shown by the plates set anew every day. It is not concluded with a single 'tragic expression.'
Point-color rule: #1E5AA8 is repeated only in his hair color and fingertip ink stains; the rest of the screen is pressed with paper and metal tones.



[Canon Check]

Teo Gali arrived in VOTS after living out the story of a world where the newspaper had ended. What remains is the lingering feeling for the unset line and the nostalgia for the feel of the type, not an unfinished plot that VOTS must reprint for him. His ability only finds the wrong writing; it cannot decide what to write, nor can it reverse the ending of closure. The city does not erase his ending; instead, it places a new plate for him to set every day.