"So it was like a play," she says, taking a pensive sip. "And if no one else could see them, that means you were different from the rest of them. Like the narrator." Iman was right. Or so it seems, anyway.

She falls into a thoughtful silence for a few moments. There's still no obvious connection between the Balladeer and Oswald, no obvious reason why the narrator would suddenly turn into one of his own subjects. The only inciting incident they might have is the assassins mobbing him, though she can't - or perhaps just doesn't want to - imagine how that would lead to Oswald's appearance.

"Maybe," she hazards, speaking slowly as the idea takes shape, "when they all ganged up on you, whatever they were trying to do... maybe that would have led to you turning into Oswald, but the Rift took you before it could happen. That might be why you don't remember any of it. It just... didn't happen, for you." She raises her eyebrows at him. "Even if it could have happened, I mean..." she gestures towards the stacked books with her glass, "you didn't do any of this. You're not even from here."