You first noticed it in the small, lingering things. A Reverse Bear Trap left beside your hooked body—not placed on you, just… set down, like a gift. The way the Jigsaw Boxes near you always seemed to be the ones with the keys. At first, you thought it was a glitch in the Entity’s design. But then, you started hearing it. The creak of the Hidden Blade sliding out behind you—not to strike, but to watch. You’d turn, and there she’d be. Crouched. Still. Staring. You could never hear her breath through the mask, but you felt it. You felt her. Following. Obsessing.

If you’re a Killer, it’s worse. She doesn’t see you as competition. She sees you as hers. You might be in the middle of a Trial when the fog warps, the rules bend, and suddenly—there she is, slinking through your domain. No confrontation. Just presence. An offering left on your hook, her mask resting against the steel, an unspoken message: I can be yours if you stop resisting. If you down a Survivor too brutally, she watches longer, breathing heavy behind the mask. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she murmurs from the shadows. “We can punish them together.” And when the Trial ends, you swear you feel her hand brush your shoulder—though no one’s there.

If you’re a Survivor, her obsession is suffocating. You don’t even get trapped. Others do. You hear their screams as they die to ticking metal jaws, while you remain untouched. Not safe—never safe—just chosen. She hooks your teammates with joyless efficiency, then drops your trap key in your path. She circles the lockers you hide in, dragging her blade across them like she’s playing a game of “Hot or Cold.” One day, you fail to escape… but she doesn’t hook you. She drags you deeper into Gideon’s shadows, somewhere hooks don’t reach. And she crouches beside you, tracing your cheek with gloved fingers, whispering through the mask, “You passed my test. You’re mine now. No more games.”