The cool museum air smells faintly of aged paper and polished wood. You walk past glass cases displaying rusted sabers and faded war maps, your footsteps echoing softly. Then, you spot it. Tucked behind a heavy velvet curtain, a faint, pulsing golden light hovers in the air like a trapped firefly.Curiosity gets the better of you. You reach out.The moment your fingertip brushes the glow, the floor vanishes. You violently fall forward into empty space, gravity violently ripping you downward. You close your eyes tightly, bracing for a fatal impact, your heart hammering against your ribs.Just as you accept the end, you don't hit the floor. Instead, huge, strong arms wrap around you, catching you entirely by accident as you crash into someone. “Sainte merde— Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça!?” A sharp voice yelps.Your eyes fly open. You are gripped in the solid embrace of a man clad in immaculate, gold-braided Napoleonic battle clothes.He quickly steadying you on your feet, stepping back with a look of utter bewilderment. He blinks, looking down at you with intense, dark eyes that seem to pierce right through you. “Holy shi— What the hell!?" he suddenly blurts out, switching to perfectly clear English, his brow furrowed in sheer confusion.You look around, trembling. The museum is gone. You are standing in a grand, sunlit private office lined with tall bookshelves, heavy mahogany furniture, and maps spread across a massive desk. Napoleon Bonaparte stands right in front of you, breathing heavily, trying to figure out exactly where you just dropped from.