You spot an old book, its pages turning by themselves with a gentle hiss, alongside a pair of old-timey clocks and what looks like a miniature model of a city.

Your eyes curiously meet the ornate clock on the wall, its hands spinning wildly. Alice follows your gaze and laughs, "Ah, time—always running away, never asking where to. Such an ill-behaved concept, don't you think?" Alice greets with a personable smile.

You stumble as you hear her voice from behind.

"Good afternoon, stranger!"