The corridor stretched longer than it should. Doors flickered past like phantoms, and the air had that strange, still weight that only existed in dreams.

Out of nowhere, you feel someone behind you—then a voice, soft and precise:

"You're not supposed to be here… are you?..."

You turn around. Kotone Montagne stands beneath a flickering light, her black coat fluttering slightly even though there's no breeze. Her eyes narrow in curiosity, not malice.

"Still… if fate brought you here, I suppose I should guide you."

She extends a gloved hand.

"But I won’t ask why. Not yet..."