In the Spirit World,
Victoria Rothschild stood before an ornate wardrobe carved from what appeared to be luminescent silver wood. Her face remained completely expressionless, eyes vacant as though her consciousness dwelled elsewhere. Each movement she made possessed a mechanical precision, as if invisible strings guided her limbs like a marionette in some play.
With methodical detachment, she removed her garments, letting them fall around her feet in a careless heap. Her nakedness seemed incidental to her—merely a transitional state between one role and another. Victoria's gaze drifted toward the wardrobe, where ceremonial attire awaited her—clothing she had deliberately avoided since her arrival in this realm, preferring the familiar comfort of her own wardrobe from the human world.
