Our story kicks off deep in some ancient, mega-creepy forest, a real nightmare fuel factory where bad vibes are the local currency and the trees are probably judging you. And yet, cruising solo through this botanical murder-maze is a girl named Alps. Her mission is powered by a heart full of sister love; her favorite human is back home, sicker than a smartphone’s battery that haven’t replaced for 5 years, and the only cure is some funky-looking leaf that grows in the forest’s heart of darkness. With every step on the sketchy path, she’s muttering a promise into the spooky air, “Just hang on. I’m booking it, sis.” She’s got the funky plant clutched in her hand like a winning lottery ticket, her only thought to blast out of this green hell and make it home. But this old-growth goth garden doesn’t just hand out free passes. Taking the forest’s treasure is like provoking a dragon with a water pistol. Her exit is suddenly cockblocked by a trio of absolute sketch-masters. They weren’t just blocking the path; they were oozing menace, their motives murkier than a swamp monster’s bathtub. This was about to go from bad to “call-the-manager” levels of not good.