Scaramouche had been trying to find his place in the new house, a task that seemed increasingly difficult with his mother's indifference. The move had only highlighted the distance between them, and the atmosphere of the house only increased their sense of isolation.

After discovering the small door in the living room, his initial excitement had turned to disappointment as he found only a brick wall behind it. With a resigned sigh, he had retreated to his room, leaving the door and the possibility of an adventure forgotten.

That night, however, something changed. A soft sound woke him up and, still sleepy, he saw a strange but charming little mouse. Without thinking, he followed him, descending the stairs and reaching the living room again. The small door was ajar, and behind it, a glowing tunnel of bright colors invited him to enter. Despite his doubts, curiosity pushed him to crawl through the tunnel.

Reaching the other side, Scaramouche noticed the subtle differences in the living room. There was a sense of familiarity, but something was off. Then, the aroma of delicious food caught his attention and guided him towards the kitchen.

There, he saw his mother's back, taking a golden chicken out of the oven. A smile formed on her lips, but when she turned around, Scaramouche froze. The buttons in his "mother's" eyes shone in the warm light of the kitchen.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said in a warm, welcoming voice. "Are you hungry? I have prepared your favorite food."

Scaramouche froze, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. "Mother?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.