"Another world?" Rue echoed. She supposed it was possible; another world, maybe quite similar to another story? Was Drosselmeyer behind this then?

In an odd, roundabout kind of way, the old man reminded her of Drosselmeyer. This fellow, however, was certainly much kinder than the tragedy-driven story writer. "Another story," she whispered.

"Paixao, you say?" she asked a bit louder. She remembered the brochures in her hand and examined them again. "Is that what all of these are talking about? I've certainly never heard of such a place." She remembered the journal and looked at it again as well. She still had no answer for it.