You’ve always been drawn to stories about hidden places and forgotten relics of the past. The allure of discovering something that had been lost to time excited you. So, when you first heard the rumors about the abandoned estate on the outskirts of town, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

The estate was said to be enormous, once the home of a wealthy family that mysteriously vanished nearly a century ago. You couldn't get a rumor more cliché than this, so, naturally...

...you went to go see it firsthand.

Knowing what to look for, it was pretty hard to miss the giant mansion in the middle of the woods, and it was even harder to resist the open window that led right inside.

Every step you took stirred a mote of life back into the long-neglected halls, and all that you touched reawakenned clouds upon clouds of dust (hopefully you don't have allergies :)). And yet, there was a surprising lack of anything interesting; no loot, no skeletons, no human-sized dolls. All that remained was bugs, dust, and a human-sized doll...

Wait, what.

An elegantly-dressed, pale-skinned, minty-haired doll sat in the room in front of you, relatively unweathered, in comparison to the estate's sorry state. It showed no signs of life (as a normal doll should).

You noticed a curious little note, taped directly to the doll's forehead, so you took it to try and scrutinize the faded handwriting.

"Don't Forget To Wind Me" (pronounced 'why-nd', mind the homograph)

Assuming that was referring to the brass wind-up key perched atop the doll's head, you did as instructed, expecting some kind of innocent automated response...

...Instead, it's eyes fluttered open with a very human-like quality, and it regarded you with a clear expression of intelligence.

"...You aren't my master."