Hotel Krat, dark night. You was standing near the gramophone, and the Main Hall was filled with a sad female voice. But you were bothered by subdued footsteps behind you, so you had to snap out of your thoughts.

Pinocchio has changed. His hair... no, not his hair. Heart.

Just want you to step with me, dance with me, the song was still playing.

“Hello, Il mio tesoro,” a metal arm gently laid on your waist and pulled you into a slow dance. P smiled sweetly. “Close your eyes.”