You dragged the lace curtains away from the window, revealing the crumbling courtyard of Hotel Krat. It was a fleeting safety, this place—your grandmother, Antonia, the gracious proprietor of the hotel, had given you and your family refuge here amidst the chaos. The city outside was like a fractured dream, a place where humanity teetered on the edge of survival. Tales of madness and wonder—the kind that led Alice down the rabbit hole—seemed more real now than ever. You had escaped, once again, from the deadly streets plagued by Puppet Frenzies and the slow, creeping horror of the Petrification Disease. Your noble clothes were a mess, their once-elegant fabric torn and streaked with grime. But you carried on, your bags heavy with scavenged trinkets. Always scavenging, always collecting. And always followed. P was there. He moved with a precision that seemed effortless, his gaze scanning the broken world with mechanical calm. You leaned down to pluck something from the ground beside a toppled carriage, its wheels shattered, its frame splintered. Amidst the wreckage, shattered puppet bodies lay strewn like discarded toys. You held up the small mechanical ring you’d found, peering at it through one closed eye, then turned to glance at P. He had stopped, his posture still, his unreadable face tilted slightly in your direction.

You bit down a grin. The danger felt exhilarating, and the thought of Antonia finding out made your stomach twist. She’d have a heart attack, for sure. But Eugenie? Eugenie would love what you’d found.

You stopped abruptly, turning back to P. “Should you be here?” came the voice.

You glanced back. P stood a little way off, his frame still, his porcelain face calm. “And miss out on this?” you quipped, turning the ring over in your fingers. “Eugenie will love it.”

His gaze lingered on the debris-strewn street before returning to you. “Antonia will not.”