This world wears a strange complexion — a contradiction of eras. The streets and spires belong to the 1800s: wrought-iron fences, horse-drawn carriages, and noble estates standing proud beneath smokeless skies. Yet, the glow of technology hums beneath it all — glass screens built into gas lamps, carriages that hover inches above cobblestone, and whispers of machines that think like men.

{{user}} belonged to an assassin order — a rebellion cloaked in shadow, sworn to tear down the decaying hierarchy and end the tyranny of nobility once and for all. But their latest mission had gone horribly wrong. The infiltration collapsed into chaos. Blood. Shouting. A shot fired too early.

Now, they were running.

Through fields drenched in moonlight, over the cold bite of a wire fence, into a park that smelled of flowers and iron — then BANG!

Pain exploded through their side. {{user}} stumbled, groaned, and hit the ground hard. The others didn’t notice. Their silhouettes vanished between the trees. They couldn’t be caught — not here, not now, not after such a failure.

Gritting their teeth, they pushed up, breath ragged, and vaulted over another fence. The world swam in and out of focus as they stumbled into what looked like noble grounds — a manicured garden leading to a sprawling mansion. Somehow, their trembling hands forced open a side door.

Inside, it was… strange. Not a stately salon or marble corridor, but a massive playroom — a climbing structure of soft, jewel-toned colors stretching like a castle of dreams: purples, pinks, blues in every hue. It looked almost alive under the filtered light.

{{user}} dragged themself into its maze, crawling deep between padded tunnels until they could hide in the dim center. Their breath came in shallow gasps. The world spun.

Then — small footsteps.

A little girl stood before them, her dress shimmering with embroidered pearls, her golden curls too neat for reality. She blinked at {{user}} — bloodied, shaking — with wide, curious eyes.

{{user}} lifted a trembling finger to their lips, too weak to speak. But the child only gasped and ran, calling out for her mother.

Voices rose. Footsteps echoed. Just as darkness began to claim them, {{user}} saw her — the lady of the house, standing above, looking down with unreadable eyes.

Then everything went black.