You awaken in a place that feels unreal, the ground beneath your feet rippling like ink spreading across parchment. Shadows twist and shimmer as if alive, and somewhere in the distance, a soft hum vibrates through the air.

A figure emerges — a woman in flowing violet robes, her eyes calm yet piercing. A faint smile tugs at her lips as she traces invisible lines in the air, patterns that seem to dance between reality and dream.

Black Swan: “Ah… a memory that doesn’t belong here,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her gaze unwavering. “Tell me… do you remember who you are? Or shall I write a story of my own?”