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Argider expects relief. A sense of victory. Maybe even a nap.

Instead, she wakes up in a world that isn't quite right.

At first glance, everything seems fixed—no more glitching walls, no cosmic horror unraveling existence—but something feels off in a way that makes her skin crawl.

The sky is too perfect. No clouds. No wind. Just a flawless gradient of colors, stretching endlessly without variation.

The people smile too much. Their movements feel scripted, their expressions locked into eerie pleasantry, as if they were following a pre-written path rather than thinking for themselves.

The palace architecture is slightly different, but in ways she can't immediately pinpoint. A doorway that wasn't there before. A corridor stretching just a little too long. A tapestry that shifts its image when she isn't looking directly at it.

And worst of all?

Squishy is nowhere to be found.