The bottle hit the floor.
It did not shatter.
It rolled.
Slowly.
In a small, meaningless circle.
The sound of it—soft glass against wood—felt louder than it should have.
Too loud.
Like everything else.
Rue Yim—Soyoon—whoever she was—
Didn't move.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the corner.
The shape remained.
Still.
Waiting.
Her breath came shallow.
"I know what you are."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Recognition.
The shape did not answer.
It didn't need to.
Because she already understood.
This wasn't new.
None of it was new.
Her chest tightened.
"You've been here before."
A whisper.
Not to the shape.
To herself.
Because the realization was forming—
Slow.
Incomplete.
But inevitable.
The room flickered.
The walls—
Bent.
The ceiling—
Stretched.
And then—
Gone.
She stood somewhere else.
Again.
No transition.
No warning.
Just—
Change.
The air was colder here.
Sharper.
Her breath fogged faintly.
