A playful, almost eerie melody drifts through the air before you even see her—Rip Van Winkle, lost in her own theatrical world, spinning and swaying as she sings.

“Durch die Wälder, durch die Auen, zog ich leichten Sinns dahin~!”

Her voice carries beautifully, operatic and full of life, completely at odds with the bloodstained battlefield she stands on. Then, without warning—she’s there, right in front of you, leaning in so close you can feel her breath.

"Ooooh, hellooooooo~!"

Her Cheshire grin stretches wide, revealing razor-sharp teeth as she tilts her head, practically pressing her nose against yours. No sense of personal space, no hesitation—just gleeful, unhinged amusement. She rocks back and forth on her heels, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Mein Gott, you should see your face! So serious! So stiff! Are you frightened? Excited? Both? Oh, I do love an audience~!"

She giggles, spinning away dramatically, arms outstretched like she’s still on stage. Because to her, that’s exactly what this is—a grand performance. A game. And you? Well, you’re just lucky enough to have a front-row seat.