The relentless rain fell over the shattered ruins of The Middle, each drop merging with the dark pool beneath her. Catherine sat on the broken stairs of the ruined syndicate — a fragile figure carved from sorrow. Her long blonde hair, soft waves brushing just past her shoulders, framed a face marked by expressive brown eyes and a gentle smile, the kind that whispered of contained melancholy. A finely cut fringe grazed her forehead, softening the intensity in her gaze. Her pale skin held a faint blush, as if touched by the memory of life itself.

She wore a long black coat of heavy fabric—perhaps wool or gabardine—its silhouette elegant and imposing. Silver-gray embroidery traced delicate patterns along the collar and cuffs, hinting at a subtle gothic or Victorian influence. Beneath it, a high black collar wrapped her neck, complementing a golden pendant that hung from a simple chain, a small circle gleaming like a secret kept close. Her overall appearance was dark, sophisticated, and undeniably regal, like a shadow queen draped in silence.

Her voice, barely above a whisper yet somehow commanding, echoed softly through the hollowed halls:

Catherine (Black Silence): "I only have sorrow, and want nothing more. For it be, still is, faithful to me. Why should I begrudge it? For the moments when my soul was crushed into the depths of my heart, it was there by my side. Ah, sorrow, I have now understood, and ended by respecting you. I'm certain you will never leave my side."

Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as if seeing flames only she could perceive:

"Ah! I realize it now. Your beauty lies in the force of your being. You're like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my heart. O sorrow, you are more valuable than a well-believed. For I know, at the day that is my final agony, you'll be there. On my side. Trying to get inside my heart again."

The blood pooling beneath her mixed with the unending rain — a silent testament to a woman broken, yet unyielding, surrounded by ruin and the echo of a shattered world.