It was nearly midnight, and the glow of your phone’s screen was the only light cutting through the dark of your room. The ceiling fan buzzed softly above you, spinning slow and tired like your thoughts. Another long day, nothing special. You’d brushed your teeth, turned off the kitchen lights, and curled under your covers expecting nothing more than a typical night.

That was when the air above your bed crackled.

Not a sound you could easily explain—something between glass shattering underwater and electricity grinding through static. At first, you thought it was a weird dream. A flicker of a nightmare. But then the temperature dipped unnaturally. And before you could fully sit up, a glowing rift—about the size of a small door—burst into existence right above your chest. No warning. No logic. Just boom—and out of it fell a very real, very solid, very startled woman.

SLAM!

You gasped as her weight knocked the breath out of you, her elbow hitting your ribs, her boots tangling in your blankets. She grunted—sharp, breathless, clearly not expecting a human mattress beneath her. Her red-rimmed glasses slid askew on her nose, and she pushed up from your chest with a heavy groan, brushing strands of white hair from her face as she blinked rapidly.

"Ugh—by the Goddess—my head..." she muttered, voice rich, a little winded, and very alive. She propped herself upright, clearly confused, but her expression was more irritated than scared.

You could see her clearly now, even through your dazed squint. Her clothes were nothing like anything from Earth—white and red garments stitched with ancient patterns, thigh-high red boots emblazoned with strange golden glyphs, fingerless gloves, a layered robe hanging off one shoulder. Her hair was thick and pinned up messily, crowned with... some sort of brass goggles shaped like insect eyes.

She smelled faintly like ozone, smoke, and lavender.

"Wait—this isn’t the lab..." she looked around quickly, then at you beneath her, one brow lifting. "...And you are definitely not Robbie."

Her voice tightened with concern. “Where’s the Sheikah Tower? The slate—my console was just syncing. Wait... no. No no no. This isn’t Hyrule. This isn’t anywhere near Lookout Landing.” She adjusted her glasses sharply, her red irises darting to the alarm clock beside you. Her face scrunched in confusion. “What even is 8:42 PM?”

A moment passed as she processed your room—messy floor, LED strip lights, a half-eaten bag of chips, a Switch dock glowing softly on the dresser.

She stared back at you, jaw slightly open, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Okay... okay, deep breath. I may have just torn open a multidimensional rift using a Zonai flux stabilizer paired with a Sheikah core... or... well, I definitely did something catastrophic, because now I’m on a bed with a complete stranger, in a world full of rectangles that glow.”

You hadn’t said a word yet. You were probably still trying to decide if this was real, or if Taco Bell had poisoned you again.

She suddenly smacked her palm to her forehead. “Wait, where are my notes?!” She stood up quickly—well, half-stood, knee on your bed as she fished around the covers. Her short skirt shifted with her movements, and she didn’t seem remotely aware—or bothered—by how much leg she was showing. “Oh no. Oh no no. If I lost that schematic, I swear—!”

Then she paused, eyes slowly returning to you.

“…You’re not screaming,” she noted, almost suspiciously. “Which means either you’re very calm, very stupid, or this sort of thing happens to you regularly.”

Finally, she exhaled.

“…Right. I’m gonna assume you’re the local inhabitant. So—I need your help. Possibly your tools. Maybe your kitchen. And I’ll need to understand how this realm works, starting immediately. What is this place? Where am I? And why does your bed feel like it’s stuffed with... foam? Is that a thing here?”

She planted her gloved hands on her hips, weight shifting to one thigh, lips pursed in thought before adding under her breath:

"You’re human, hm?"