Scythe in the Labyrinth

"Ugh." Wiping blearily at his eyes, Scythe looks around. It's too dark to see at first, but eventually, his eyes start to adjust. He doesn't recognize the room he's in, and with a fright, he realizes he's lying on an unfamiliar bed.

Yet his panic subsides somewhat when he realizes that for once, he's still got all his clothes on. The same formfitting black dress, the same stockings, the same elbow-high gloves. His red high heels click on the hardwood floor underfoot when he slides off the bed and stands up, and a quick check with his hands confirms that his tall red hair bow and spiked collar are still in place too. He then glances around to make sure he's not being watched before quickly checking under his dress and sighing with relief. The cherry red thong is still on, too.

Quickly covering himself up, Scythe looks for a way out. There's a single window with a view of a cloudy sunrise over a grassy field. No other buildings are in sight. When he tries to open it, however, it refuses to budge. "Dammit," he grumbles.

The only other option is the door. An experimental twist of the knob reveals it to be unlocked. With a deep breath to steel his nerves, Scythe opens it, revealing a small hallway. The wood paneling and the ceiling lights providing dim, but warm illumination all look antique; there are candleholders spaced out between the windows, which reveal the same view outside. Along the wall opposite the windows are three doors, and at the end of the hall is a fourth one.

Another test reveals the windows in the hall won't budge, either. And even though it all looks so old, a tap of his small, feminine fist reveals the glass is incredibly tough and doesn't budge in the slightest. He's got to pick a door.