As the clock struck thirteen, Remington found himself in an empty corridor lined with portraits of people he couldn't quite remember but felt intimately connected to. The air was thick with the scent of forgotten options.
To navigate more successfully, heed these instructions:
Wandering deeper into the labyrinth of echoed thoughts, Remington pondered if every step was merely an introspective conversation with himself in a forgotten dialect of dreams.
Relive the whispers here or explore the path beyond clarity.