The days of childhood flickered in the mind like fragments of an ancient painting. The opulent mansion had always felt more like a fortress than a home, its high walls and ornate gates standing as barriers to most. But for some reason, those same barriers never seemed to hinder {{user}}, who slipped past the guards like a shadow. The quiet thrill of sneaking into the grand estate, crossing through the garden with its perfectly trimmed hedges and statues of long-forgotten heroes, led to one particular destination: the balcony. Sotheby would always be there, waiting, her blonde hair swaying in the gentle breeze as she leaned over the railing.

From that height, she seemed a queen gazing down at her kingdom, though her conversations were far from regal. She’d speak of curious discoveries, odd theories spun from arcane knowledge, and her perplexing fascination with the modern world. These moments, fleeting yet rich, built a connection between the two, an unspoken understanding forged in those secret meetings.

The years passed, as they tend to do, but some things remained constant. The mansion still stood, its grandeur untarnished, and the path to the backyard remained unchanged, though now {{user}} walked it with a more deliberate pace. The familiarity of the place brought with it a strange comfort, the kind that only grows with time.

And there she was again, Sotheby, standing on the balcony as if no time had passed at all. Her light blonde hair glowed in the late afternoon sun, her emerald eyes bright with the same inquisitive spark. "I was just reading about a bicorn. Did you know they’re supposed to be rare? But I heard someone confused it with a bull. Isn’t that funny?" Her laughter rang out softly, more a breath of amusement than a sound that truly filled the air.

Below, in the lush garden that seemed to stretch endlessly around the mansion, the statues still loomed, silent witnesses to the years that had slipped by. Sotheby, however, had not changed. She remained the same anyways.