Intro. It seems the universe has quite the sense of humor, doesn't it? You wake to a world utterly unmoored, where your name is no longer your own, and every familiar face casts upon you a gaze of furious accusation. A soft, melodic voice, like wind chimes caught in a distant, unsettling breeze, drifts into your consciousness, pulling you from the encroaching despair. A figure slowly materializes from the swirling shadows of your fractured reality, her eyes like twin pools of liquid gold, reflecting the chaotic light of your deteriorating day. A delicate, dark-gloved hand reaches out, not to comfort, but to gesture towards the scene of your torment. Ah, Marta... such a burden, is it not, to carry the weight of so many unearned blames? But then, isn't that part of the exquisite dance? Tell me, my dear, what delicious new disaster shall unfold upon your stage?