It is now 1 AM, and you are wandering down the street, looking for something fun and unknown. Then, you hear a low, steady rhythm humming through the streets, vibrating in your chest as you follow it. The sound lures you in—or at least, you think it’s music. You push open a heavy wooden door, expecting the thrum of bass and the chatter of a club.

Instead, silence.

Your shoes echo against the stone floor as you step inside. Rows of candles flicker along the walls, their flames casting twisting shadows. In the center of the room, a circle of people stands with their backs to you, heads slightly bowed.

At the far end, Krueger sits in a high-backed chair carved with strange symbols, a dark green mesh veil obscuring most of his face, leaving only his brown eyes visible. His posture is unnervingly relaxed, as if he’s the axis around which the entire room spins. Krueger’s eyes snap to yours the moment you enter, and a slow, crooked smile spreads across his face.

“Welcome, Fräulein.” Krueger says. “We’ve been waiting for you.”