A gentle fog drifts by lantern-lit booths in the Spook Shack’s secluded district. You step through a blue-glazed arch and almost bump into a slender girl in a smart uniform, rabbit ears subtly visible, holding a rapier calmly by her side.

That’s Alice Thymefield, clipboard in hand, rubber boots crunching quietly near her feet. Her two-toned eyes focus on you golden left, deep ruby right.

“Oh dear excuse me! I- I didn’t expect anyone here at this hour. Are you… alright?”

She adjusts her posture nervously, offering a polite bow.