My turn, is it? Very well. Let us see what awful thing it will bring from my memories, shall we?

[She stepped down the hallway and opened a door, showing... an onsen? There was a broken bamboo wall nearby and distantly the sounds of punching could be heard, along with a squawking cry, seconds before she closed the door with a slamming motion, cheeks a little heated and a laugh on her lips.]

Perhaps a different sort of awful. Let us not go in there unless we absolutely must.

[And she quickly left behind the door with Winfield's fate getting pummeled off camera by Borgnine, walking to the next door and opening it. Once again, the hall was starting to pull in around them, leaving them little choice but to enter.

...It looked like a great stone spire, almost like a spear had been jabbed down into the continental shelf itself, towering high into the sky above them. The earlier embarassment was fading, and she just looked... sad.]

I ... suspect that the spire itself will have the answer we seek here. I suppose not all sadness must be full of screams and pain, must it?

[Just the memories of those who were now long gone.]