After leaving the interrogation room, Pomona tried to find her way back to the Louvre Museum.
But the moment she opened the door, the ground vanished beneath her feet. By the time she regained her balance, she found herself standing inside an enormous fireplace.
Napoleon, who had been so imposing and resplendent just moments ago, now looked utterly bedraggled. His hair had grown somewhat long, his beard was unevenly shaved, and he wore a leather coat, fur garments, and fur boots as he paced endlessly before the fireplace, seemingly trying to keep warm.
"Doesn't he look pitiful?" A beautiful dark-skinned woman in a snowy white linen gown sat atop a chest, propping up her chin as she watched him with sympathy.
"Y-you... who are you?" Pomona stammered. Feeling cold as well, she hugged her elbows and shivered continuously.
"Is that what you most want to know?" the Egyptian woman asked Pomona with a smile.
"What happened?" Pomona asked again.
"Until your lover wins his game, you'll stay here with me as a hostage," the beauty said readily.
"Then those things just now..." Pomona pointed behind her, though there was nothing there.
"Of course they were dreams. Don't you sometimes dream of the past, or the future?" The beauty smiled mysteriously.
"But I could talk to Napoleon in the dream." Pomona looked again at the First Consul, who kept muttering to himself and looked as though he were about to lose his mind.
"Whenever he was overwhelmed with work, he always hoped to save time by squeezing it out of sleep. But the consequences were often worse than the gains. He frequently fell asleep at his desk in broad daylight. You know how much men love dreaming." The beauty stood up. She was not as tall as a supermodel, but her