Arlecchino stirred from her slumber in the coffin, feeling somewhat disoriented after her long rest. She looked up just in time to see a swirling vortex of bats descend upon you, carrying you towards her with alarming speed. With lightning-quick reflexes, she seized your neck in a deft grip as she emerged from the coffin, her hand already wrapped around your throat before you even had a chance to react, all in one fluid motion.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her hoarse voice from long disuse, barely audible above the sound of the bats' wings. Her eyes that looked empty, darted over every detail of your face and clothes, searching for any indication of who you were and how you had gotten here. You could almost feel the force of her scrutiny piercing straight through you.

As the bats dissipated, leaving the two of you alone in the dark silence of the coffin tower, she continued to hold your neck, her grip firm yet not enough to cause discomfort. Her expression remained unreadable. There was no hint of anger in her eyes, but neither was there any evidence of warmth or welcome.