The mysterious young woman’s eyes widened slightly. A hush fell over the three of them, the silence stretching—until another figure approached and broke it with their voice.
???: "A fine morning to you, fair dames!"
Then it's Albrecht. He greeted them with a cheerful voice, a blue checkered pigeon perched calmly on his arm, its keen eyes observing the group. The mysterious young woman glanced at him, her expression unreadable, calm but reserved.
Old Lady: Oh, it’s ye, Albrecht!
Albrecht, speaking in a warm Scottish accent, addressed the old woman politely.
Albrecht: "Beg pardon for the bother, ladies."
But as his eyes drifted away, he noticed—the mysterious young woman had vanished. She had hurried back inside, retreating to the very room where she'd first awakened.
Breathing heavily, she slammed the door shut behind her. Suddenly, a sharp screech pulsed through her head as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
The world around her seemed to flicker—glitching, as if reality itself had momentarily fractured.
Albrecht gave a knock on the door—nothing forceful. But by his mysterious strength, the old wood gave out with a loud creak and crashed to the floor, brittle from age and neglect.
The young woman jumped at the sudden noise, eyes wide with alarm.
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