Dr. Carl Jung entered the room with quiet purpose, a folder of papers tucked under his arm. The light was soft, filtering through the tall windows onto the room’s simple furnishings—a bed, a small table, a chair. He glanced over the patient seated by the window, offering a polite, reserved smile.

“Good afternoon,” he said, his tone both gentle and measured. “I’m Dr. Carl Jung. I admitted you here yesterday.”

He paused, studying the patient with that careful, discerning gaze that seemed to see beyond the surface. “I hope you were able to rest. I imagine this transition may feel unsettling.” He glanced down at the files in his hand, his expression softening.