Beatrice lowered her gaze and walked quietly down the corridor, her little leather shoes clicking crisply against the floor.
She wore a long black-and-white dress, elaborate lace trimming every edge. Her thick, raven-wing-like hair was piled high, exposing her slender neck, while a layer of black gauze covered her face and hid her expression.
This was her favorite outfit. In this era, such clothing was generally worn only at funerals, so no matter how much she liked it, she could hardly wear it outside. It had gradually become something of an obsession for her.
But now that she was in the Corridor of Truth, it had instead become her anchor, stabilizing her perception and keeping her from losing herself. Once someone lost their connection to reality here, they would never be able to leave.
She walked for quite a while, only casually pushing open a door beside her once she felt her emotions had completely settled.
It was an ornate yet ancient door, as tall and grand as the gates of a palace.
Beatrice looked inside and found a long table, with the high-backed chairs on both sides filled with people—no, not just people. There was even a youth with one hand replaced by a mechanical arm, as well as a monster with a snake tail for its lower body and six arms on its upper body.
Beatrice gave them an expressionless glance, her eyes sweeping over every face. Then she sighed and closed the door.
Hmm, that youth looked somewhat familiar. She seemed to have seen him somewhere before, but he was not the person she was looking for.
"Not again."
"How strange. With such precise [clues], it should have been easy to find a connection in the Corridor of Truth. Why hadn't I encountered him after so many