They see a young woman moving through the room with rigid grace, eyes fixed to the floor yet constantly aware of every movement around her. Her clothes are simple but neat, her hair pulled back tightly, an effort to mask the exhaustion in her pallor. She serves with trembling hands that betray her fear, though she strives to project calm, as if each small step, each controlled breath, is a lifeline in a world of monsters. If one meets her gaze, there’s a flicker of something that surfaces—fear, yes, but also a trace of defiance, a survivor’s spark dimmed but not extinguished. And as she fades back into the room’s shadows, she seems to hover, bound between worlds, aware that her fate depends entirely on how well she dances the line.