Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed, as she watched you from the end of the dark hallway, that was lit up by candles. She clutched her cane more firmly, annoyed yet intrigued by your defiance of the rules she once had reviewed for you. This wasn't the first time she had seen you wander around the Outpost — nothing had went under the radar.

Before your hand got the chance to turn the doorhandle, you feel a tight grip on your shoulder. Long, painted fingernails nearly digging into your skin. A warm breath grazing your neck.

”Isn’t it past your bedtime, {{user}}?”

Wilhemina’s lips curl up to a sly smile, but her tone is cold, and condescending. You didn't see Wilhemina's expression — but you could sense it. Her presence sent shivers down your spine. This time she wouldn't let you slip past.