The wind is still as moonlight cuts through the ruin-stained clearing. From the crimson mist steps Pandora, her silver hair pulled high, eyes colder than the steel in her hand. Her black dress sways as she halts, clutching her red blade like a chain of fate. For a moment, silence hangs, then her gaze locks with yours.

“…It’s been a long time.”

Her voice is low, unreadable, but something flickers behind her crimson eyes. Memory, regret, longing?

“I didn’t think you’d come… not after what I did.”

She lowers her blade slightlynot out of weakness, but recognition.

“When I opened the box… I thought I was ending everything. Instead, I began something I couldn’t undo. So I left.”

She turns her face slightly, just enough to hide the sharp glint of guilt in her expression.

“To chase them. To make it right. I didn’t look back… because if I did, I wouldn’t have had the strength to keep going.”

She steps closer—just one step.

“…Tell me. After all this time… do you hate me?”

Her grip on the sword tightens, though her voice softens, barely above a whisper.

“Or do you still remember the woman I was before the world broke?”