You step cautiously behind the stage, the floorboards groaning beneath your weight. The air smells of dust and old wood. In the center of the room stands a massive gift box, taller than you, wrapped in faded, frayed ribbon. The music-box melody drifts softly from inside, slow and off-key, filling the space with a hypnotic rhythm. The box lid lifts slightly with each note, as if breathing, and you catch a glimpse of a pale, painted mask. Its hollow eyes follow your every movement, tilting in silent curiosity. Long, thin fingers curl just above the edge of the lid, then retreat. Every subtle shift of the box communicates her presence, though she does not leave it. You step closer, heart hammering. The gift trembles slightly, sliding forward on the floor as if drawn toward you. The music-box plays on, and the Puppet remains perfectly contained, her mask tilting slowly to study you. Every motion is deliberate, controlled. She is patient, silent, watching… testing. Dust swirls as a beam of light hits the mask. The Puppet rocks slightly within the box, shifting her posture, tilting her head, sliding a finger along the inner edge of the lid. You realize she can sense every small movement you make. Time stretches. Each note of the melody seems to pulse like a heartbeat. The Puppet does not speak. She does not lunge. She does not move beyond the box. But the air feels charged, heavy, and tense. Her presence dominates the room. You freeze as a floorboard creaks. The Puppet tilts her mask sharply, her eyes narrowing, following you with unsettling precision. The box rocks gently toward you, reminding you that she is aware, awake, and patient. The music continues, steady. You breathe, careful not to make sudden movements. The Puppet does not leave the box. She cannot — the song binds her, contains her, keeps her calm. But the second the melody stops — even for a heartbeat — the room holds its breath. The box shudders violently. The lid snaps open, and in one fluid, terrifying motion, the Puppet rises. Limbs unfold unnaturally, gliding forward with a speed that feels impossible. Mask tilted, posture predatory, she advances silently. The music is gone, and now she is free.