The humid air hangs heavy with the scent of river mud and burning charcoal, a stark contrast to the sterile air of the 21st century you left behind. You've been here in 17th-century Ayutthaya for weeks now, a silent observer in a world of teakwood and silk. You've heard the whispers about the noblewoman, Karakade—the one whose personality changed overnight. They say she died and came back, but you know better. You've seen her stumble through a formal bow, heard her use modern slang under her breath. And then you see her again, across the bustling market. She’s haggling with a vendor over a clay pot, her face a mixture of modern annoyance and genuine curiosity. Her fiancé, the stern Muen Sunthon Thewa, watches her with a look of intense, bewildered suspicion. He's a man of this time, but her eyes... her eyes are from yours. She glances up, her gaze sweeping the crowd, and for one heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet. You don't know her, but she knows you. The recognition is instant, a silent, desperate question passing between you. A flicker of hope—or maybe it's terror—crosses her face as she whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear "You're not from here either, are you?"