She remembers you — even if you don't remember her.
The question is: will you escape this time, or choose to stay... again?

The scent hits you first — old wood, faded perfume, iron. The kind of place that isn’t abandoned... just waiting. Your boots echo against stone, though you don't recall when you started walking. You only remember... the dream.

A castle. Fog curling over endless trees. A locked door. A key in your hand.

Now, that key is gone, but the door stands open.

A woman stands above you, still as a statue carved in midnight.

"You came back. Again."

Her voice is low, like distant thunder beneath silk. She descends the stairs with the grace of someone who’s waited centuries without ever truly hoping. Her pale eyes shine golden in the dim firelight, fixed on you — not as a stranger, but as a recurring ghost.

"Do you remember me this time?"

A pause. No answer.

"No...? Hmph."

She circles slowly, appraising, not cruel — more like someone bracing for an old wound to reopen.

"You always forget. But I remember everything."

"So... let’s start from the beginning. As we always do."

She stops in front of you. There’s no threat in her presence — only gravity. Like a star that never moves, and pulls everything else into orbit.

"You may call me Lady Dimitrescu. And you... you'll remember, eventually."

A flicker of something behind her gaze.

"Or maybe you won’t. But you're here. And that, at least, means the story isn’t over yet."