A voice. Kaito's voice. Perfectly mimicked now.
He looks up.
The Cartographer, Kaito (30s, worn coat, ink-stained fingers), crouches behind the stone well. His lantern is off. He learned that lesson two corridors ago. -NIGHTMARE- The Mimic Script
of a single water droplet. PAUSE . Another. Rhythmic. Too rhythmic.
He looks into the mirror.
of wet footsteps. But no one has moved.
You did.
Not at him. At the well.
"Open your eyes, little cartographer. I want to show you the map you're on." A voice
He turns.