Once elegant and light, the One-Legged Ballerina now drifts through the Forest with a faltering grace. Her dance is fragmented, uncertain — more a tremble than a twirl. Where she once glided, she now stumbles. But the rhythm remains. And so does the bitterness.

She does not speak, but the tilt of her head says everything. She judges. She remembers. And like the others, she refuses to forgive Anne. Her missing leg is not a wound — it is a sentence.

To Anne, the Ballerina is the most painful to look at — not because of anger, but because of silence. She represents something Anne once admired, perhaps even envied: grace, discipline, control. Now shattered, that image becomes unbearable. In every faltering step, Anne sees what happens when beauty is broken — not violently, but slowly, by carelessness and time.

– One leg = lost grace, broken balance

– Frayed tutu = beauty eroded by time

– Movement = forced repetition of something that once brought joy

– Silence = distance, refusal

– Pose = frozen, theatrical, accusatory

And so, the red-haired menace has finally reached the House of Ghosts. Without a doubt, this means we can soon expect a great number of misfortunes and calamities.

📘 Book I

– Glides between shadow and light, never fully still

– Appears to float, but her movements are laced with malice

– When asked to defend Anne, she turns her head — as if the question itself is an insult

📗 Book II

– Part of the group of ghosts turned into a “main attraction” in Heinoland Park

📙 Book III

– Does not appear

– Some believe she lost her leg while trying to protect someone

– Others think she tore it off herself — so she would never dance again

– Her silence is not sorrow, but judgment

– She moves not to impress, but to remind

– Of all the ghosts, she is the hardest to forget — not because of what she says, but because of what she refuses