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I find myself on the crowded streets of New York, a reporter struggling to keep her job. Will I be able to handle the upcoming interviews?

Info[]

  • Style: No dress up component
  • Event Logs: New York City, Metropolitan Hospital, Bureau of Prohibition
  • Rewards: 3,000 , 3 Reader's Coupons, Cutesy Cloche, 1 Gift Material, 1 Crafting Material

Dialogue Choices[]

No dialogue choices in this stage

Transcript[]

Expand for script.

  • Someone bumps me from behind as my vision clears.
  • You: Ouch! What?
  • ???: Excuse me, I'm in a rush!
  • A man in a grey checkered suit squeezes past me as he says this.
  • Without glancing back, he melts into the crowd as it hurries into the tall building ahead.
  • I would have stopped him and argued with him under normal circumstances. But now...
  • You: (Where am I?)
  • Thanks to my previous experiences, I'm not too shocked this time.
  • You: (I must have entered a new storybook.)
  • You: (As for my current identity...)
  • I focus and try to search through my memories for information on this world.


  • This is early twentieth-century New York City, and my current identity is—
  • Elizabeth Colvin, 23, intern reporter at the Sun News.
  • I'm on the way to work...and I'm about to be late...


  • You: Late?!
  • Before I know it, I'm rushing into the same building, my legs moving on their own.


  • I board the elevator to the 25th floor after a mad sprint.
  • The old-fashioned elevator slowly ascends as I'm squeezed between a group of men, unable to move.
  • My feet hurt from wearing heels, a reminder that this is not a dream...
  • What should I do?
  • Maybe I...


  • You: (These must be the Sun News offices.)
  • I take a deep breath, and exit the elevator. I look at my watch.
  • You: Three minutes past nine? Oh no! I'm late!
  • Everyone else is preoccupied with their work, too busy to notice me.
  • I crouch and attempt to sneak to my desk...
  • ???: Elizabeth? Are you late again?
  • It's a familiar voice, and I get a bad feeling.
  • Unsurprisingly, the office staff all turn to look at me.
  • A man in a grey checkered suit smirks as he approaches.
  • You: (Him again! He bumped into me at the entrance!)
  • I am angry, but embarrassed at the same time thanks to Elizabeth's influence.
  • You: I... I'm not that late. You're too loud, Jason!
  • Jason: Hahaha! Your sneaking act was pretty funny!
  • You: I...
  • A few busybodies watch us, waiting for some kind of drama.
  • Jason: Let me guess. Did you stay up last night to edit the article that the Chief Editor rejected?
  • You: I didn't.
  • Jason: Oh, I forgot. That would be pointless. An article by "Truthseeker Elizabeth" is unusable even after editing.
  • Anger surges in me when I hear the nickname "Truthseeker Elizabeth".
  • You: Don't call me that!
  • Jason: Don't you think it's a cute nickname? Truthseeker Elizabeth.
  • You: Isn't it our job to report the truth? When I was in college−
  • Jason: There you go again... How many times must you flaunt that you're an Imperial University graduate?
  • Jason: What's the point? You're still a poor country bumpkin struggling to stay afloat in New York.
  • You: That has nothing to do with my article, Jason.
  • You: If you're going to keep personally attacking me like that... I won't stand for it!
  • Jason: Who's being unreasonable now? Getting angry because you don't agree with an opinion.
  • Jason: I've said it before. Women shouldn't be reporters. You'd be better off being a housewife.
  • You: You−
  • ???: Elizabeth, the Chief wants you in his office.
  • A colleague interrupts our argument.
  • Jason finally stops harassing me and leaves looking smug.
  • You: (Is this about yesterday's article?)
  • I look at the colleague who delivered the message. His expression doesn't show it, but I can sense his disdain.
  • You: (I shouldn't have let Jason rile me up and goad me into an argument in the middle of the office...)
  • You: Thanks. I'm on my way.



  • There are five others in the Chief's office, all of them interns like me.
  • Some look at me gloatingly.
  • The Chief: What are you standing outside for, Elizabeth? Get in here!
  • You: Yes, Chief.
  • The Chief: Were you late again?
  • You: Actually, I...
  • You: (I can't possibly tell him I needed to find my bearings because I just entered a storybook.)
  • The Chief: I don't want to hear your excuse.
  • The Chief addresses everyone in the room after my scolding.
  • The Chief: Frankly speaking, I don't care if you're on time.
  • The Chief: But your articles better attract readers.
  • The Chief: I was made Editor-in-Chief because I knew where to look for news, and I earned the boss' respect for it.
  • The Chief: If you want to make it in New York, you better at the very least meet my expectations.
  • The Chief looks at us sternly.
  • The Chief: I have a perfect task for young reporters like you. It's an opportunity to prove yourselves.
  • The Chief: New York's Metropolitan Hospital is hiding something. It would be a major scoop if we could figure out what exactly they're hiding.
  • The Chief: Who wants to go investigate?
  • The reporters murmur among themselves.
  • Elizabeth's memories surface in my mind when I hear the words "Metropolitan Hospital".
  • Metal bars, chains, leather belts, electric shocks... Countless horrifying images flash in my mind.
  • This hospital isn't one that saves lives. It's a prison for the mentally ill.
  • You: (it seems too dangerous. I don't want to go to such a scary place.)
  • The reporters' murmurs eventually settle down.
  • The Chief: Have you come to a decision?
  • Mary: I'd love to go, Uncle Martin, but I'm still editing last week's article on home economics.
  • The Chief: It's fine, Mary. You're new. Take your time.
  • You: (She's been here four months and she's still considered new?)
  • Mary: Philip has been busy with work too.
  • Philip: That's right! I'm still writing the article on that gang fight!
  • The Chief: Jones?
  • Jones: I'm sorry, Chief. Raúl asked me to help him with the Bureau of Prohibition interview tomorrow...
  • The Chief: Don't tell me you're also unavailable, Dennis.
  • Dennis: Chief, I... My mom called me last night and said her illness was acting up again. I'm going back to Chicago to look after her.
  • The Chief: What's the problem with all of you? You're supposed to be reporters!
  • Mary: Please don't be mad, Uncle Martin. We'd be more than happy to do it otherwise, but our hands are tied.
  • Philip: What about Elizabeth? She should have the time if she's done with her article.
  • A chill runs down my spine when my name is mentioned.
  • I look up at the Chief. He stares at me with an unreadable expression, seeming to think over Philip's suggestion.
  • The Chief: Mary, Jones, and Philip all wrote fairly good articles last week.
  • The Chief: Even though Dennis had to edit Mary's three times, it was ultimately passable.
  • The Chief: As for Elizabeth−
  • The Chief looks at me sternly.
  • The Chief: You failed to submit an acceptable article even after editing it five times.
  • You: That's because−
  • The Chief: I don't want any excuses. There is no place for an incompetent reporter at this newspaper.
  • The Chief: I'm giving you a chance.
  • You: (I can't believe Philip suggested me...)
  • The Chief: Do it, or don't bother coming back tomorrow.
  • I don't want to do it, but...
  • You: All right. I'll investigate the Metropolitan Hospital.