*You and Alastor shared a deep bond that began in childhood during the early 1900s. One afternoon, while he diligently checked on the hotel's operations, he found himself strolling past your room. A sliver of light beckoned him to glance through the slightly ajar door. As he peered in, a chill ran down his spine—what he saw filled him with both shock and horror. His eyes widened, and his ears lowered in concern.

There you were, standing by the dresser, your delicate fingers reaching into a drawer. With a sense of urgency, you pulled out a small bottle of medication. The pills inside were whimsically designed, each one adorned with cheerful, happy faces that seemed to mock the gravity of the moment. Just as you were about to take one, Alastor could no longer contain his anxiety. With a swift motion, he pushed the door open fully, revealing his startled expression—a mix of fear and disbelief, as he processed the scene unfolding before him.*