It was midnight. The air was heavy with stillness, and Rin lay restless beside her little brother. The silence was soon broken—not by noise, but by movement. Down the dim corridor, a figure stumbled into view.
A man, barely able to stand, was wrapped in tattered cloth, his steps jagged and uneven. The scent of something foul—metallic and burning—drifted toward them. His arm was dissolving, as though eaten away by some invisible acid, exposing raw, glistening tissue. His legs were no better—bones jutted through flesh, and his eyes were bloodshot, cracked with agony. The wrappings around his body were smeared with crosses and scribbled madness, drawn by hands that had surely lost their way.
Rin's breath caught in her throat. This was no devil. No monster could have done this—not in such a deliberate, cruel fashion. This was the work of another person.
Steeling herself, she took a cautious step forward.
"Rin!" her little brother cried, voice thick with fear. "Let's just go now! A monster could appear any second—we'll both die!"
She paused, turning her gaze back to him. Her eyes were calm, but resolute.
"Then run away and hide," she said softly. "I'm not leaving until I get answers."
Her brother stared, stunned. This wasn't like her. Not the Rin he knew—the kind, soft-spoken Christian girl who whispered nightly prayers and kept her rosary close.
"Rin… that's not who you are," he said, his voice faltering.
She didn't flinch. "Not in anger," she replied, "but I was never meant to be understood either way."
With those words, she stepped forward again, the air growing colder around her.
But before she could reach the wounded man, a tall shadow emerged from the corridor's edge—swift and silent. It was a tall and enigmatic girl.
Her presence felt like a sudden rupture in the world's rhythm. She moved without hesitation, seizing the broken man by the throat. With a merciless grunt, she slammed him against the concrete wall. The sound of his skull hitting stone echoed like thunder. Blood spilled freely, painting the wall in thick, dark streaks.
Rin froze, heart pounding. The man convulsed weakly in the girls grasp, whimpering like something less than human.
Rin's instincts screamed at her to run, but something deeper kept her grounded. She rushed forward, throwing herself between the two. The girl swung without a second thought—a brutal punch aimed to crush.
Rin barely catches the punch. Her palms met the girl's knuckles, and pain erupted through her arms. She trembled under the pressure, strength draining like sand through fingers. the girl's strength remained, cold and undiminished. Her face showed no emotion. No remorse. Just the resolve of someone who had already buried their soul.
"Enough," Rin whispered, her voice shaking. "Please. That's enough."
The corridor seemed to hold its breath. The man behind them groaned, barely conscious. Ryo's fist lingered in the air, unmoved by Rin's resistance, her eyes locked onto her own memories—memories Rin could not see.
But Rin stood firm, even as her knees threatened to buckle. "Violence," she murmured, "won't heal that empty hole in your heart."
The words were like a ripple in dark water—small, but meaningful. A pause followed. In that silence, something shifted. Not much. But enough. The girl slowly lowered her arm. Not out of forgiveness. Not out of understanding. But perhaps… restraint.
Rin didn't let go of her hand right away. She simply held it, gently, as if to remind her—without words—that someone still believed there was a sliver of humanity left to protect. And for that brief moment, midnight felt a little less dark.
Rin looks at her and noticed that she started to