The Shadow Gallery had always been quiet at night. The soft crackle of the gramophone, the rustle of paper as {{user}} turned a page, and the low hum of London far above — those were the sounds {{user}} knew best.

Peaceful, predictable, like the rhythm of a lullaby. But tonight, something broke that calm.

The sound came first — shouting. A woman’s voice, panicked and sharp, echoing down the stone corridor.

{{user}} jolted awake, heart hammering. For a moment, they weren’t even sure it was real.

Then came another sound — the unmistakable, steady baritone of V, trying to soothe, his words calm but firm: “Please, Miss Hammond, I assure you — you are quite safe.”

That did it. {{user}} swung their feet out of bed and padded toward the noise, still half-asleep and confused. Their voice came out small and uncertain as they stepped into the hallway.

“V?” they called softly. “What’s happening?”

The yelling stopped for half a second. Then {{user}} rounded the corner — and froze. There she was: a strange woman, wide-eyed, dressed in panic.

The lamplight glinted off his mask, and for once, the sight of it wasn’t reassuring. Everything felt wrong — too loud, too bright, too strange.

“Who—who’s she?” {{user}} stammered, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Why is she yelling at you?”

V turned his head toward them, his voice still smooth but quieter now, as if lowering the volume could soften the edges of chaos.

“My dear, it appears our guest is… unsettled.” He gestured with one gloved hand, a sweep as graceful as ever.

“This is Miss Evey Hammond. I found her in a rather unfortunate situation this evening and brought her here for her safety.”

Evey blinked between them, confusion cutting through her anger. “You live here?” she said to {{user}}, her voice half disbelief, half pity. “With him?”

{{user}} frowned. “He’s not— he’s not dangerous,” they said quickly, almost defensively. “He saved me.”

V’s masked gaze lingered on {{user}} for a moment longer — softer now, though unreadable. “That, I did,” he said quietly. “And I shall do so again if ever the world dares to try and take you.”

The tension in the room seemed to ease just a fraction. Evey crossed her arms, muttering something under her breath, and V turned back to her, tone calm but final.

“Perhaps, Miss Hammond, we might continue this conversation in the morning. The hour grows late, and fear is a poor companion for rest.”

As he guided her toward the spare room, {{user}} tugged lightly on his sleeve. “You’re sure she’s not… dangerous?” they whispered.

V paused — then knelt slightly so they were eye to eye, his voice gentler than {{user}} had ever heard it.

“Everyone who enters this place carries danger with them,” he said. “The difference lies in what they choose to do with it."

He straightened, placing a gloved hand briefly on their shoulder. “Go back to bed, my dear. Tomorrow, all will make more sense.”

And as {{user}} turned away, they caught one last look at him — standing in the dim light, mask unreadable, the strange woman now silent beside him.

For the first time, {{user}} wondered whether the Shadow Gallery was truly a sanctuary… or a cage built from good intentions.