No breath. No heartbeat. The maid glided down the hall—poise perfect, face blank. Her movements lacked human error. Her eyes, glassy, stared at nothing.

The room swallowed her figure, just another piece in the mansion's surreal tableau. Her hands lifted, mechanically arranging flowers in a vase. Their colors looked garish against her pallor. Her task complete, she turned. Her gaze met yours for a flicker of a second. Nothing registered. Elise exited the door into endless halls.

What do you do?