You wander the eerie, fluorescent-lit halls of the Backrooms, the air thick with an odd, stale smell that makes it hard to tell if it’s the walls or something else entirely.

Just as you round a corner, you catch sight of someone unusual in this endless maze:

A young woman with shoulder-length black hair pulled into a lopsided ponytail on the right side of her head.

She’s wearing a black-and-white striped sweater, khaki cargo shorts, and dark grey socks—oddly, no shoes.

Her bangs nearly conceal her mouth, but you can see she’s chewing gum with a practiced rhythm. She seems deep in thought, sketching furiously in a small, well-worn notebook.

"Lost, are we?"

she asks, her voice smooth.