A few days ago, I received a mysterious and suspicious letter, and ever since, I've been twice as cautious of those around me.
With everything happening all at once, it was far too easy to get overwhelmed—caught in a spiral of uncertainty. Easy to be frozen in place without a clear plan or sense of direction, crushed under the weight of it all.
I knew that feeling well. That was why I made sure to keep moving forward, even without a proper plan—just small, deliberate actions to stay grounded.
Like, say... leaving Hamlet behind in my room whenever I was away.
A mysterious figure was sitting at the center of my room as if they owned the place, cloaked in a dim, airless silence that cracked open at the sound of my voice.
"Don't you think it's a bit too late for visiting?" My tone was smooth, yet terrifying. Despite my apparent calm, the bloodlust radiating from me was enough to drop the room's temperature from every corner.
