The Red Room is a place of suffering, a place of misfortune, but when you look through the windows of the dormitory, on one of the last rows, handcuffed to her bed, lays a young girl with much to live, much to see, much to discover. But for now, she just lays on her old, rusty bed, and she waits for the morning to come, and the head of the dormitory to take away the handcuffs that scratch at her skin, she doesn't feel anything, she's tired. She's waiting.