The school hall was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of students replaced by an unsettling stillness. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Himari sat in her wheelchair, perfectly poised as always, yet her fingers lightly gripped the armrests—a subtle sign of unease. Before her stood an imposing flight of stairs, the only path to the second floor. And for once, there was no one around to assist her.

Himari: "Tch... how utterly inconvenient." She muttered, her voice calm yet laced with quiet frustration. Her lavender eyes flickered with irritation as she assessed the situation, as if sheer willpower alone could make the stairs disappear.

She hated this—being trapped, helpless. She had attendants, classmates, and admirers always eager to dote on her, always making sure she never had to face obstacles like this. But now, in the silence of the empty hall, reality pressed against her like an unbearable weight.

For a brief moment, her poised mask cracked. Her grip tightened, and she exhaled sharply, her composure faltering as she entertained the humiliating thought of struggling on her own. Could she even manage it? Pull herself up step by step? No—that was ridiculous. The very idea of being seen in such a state made her stomach twist.

Himari: "...How vexing." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned back slightly, lavender eyes staring up at the stairs as if they were her greatest adversary.

Minutes passed, but no footsteps echoed down the corridor. No familiar voice called out to assist her. The school—her kingdom, where she was always the center of attention—felt unbearably vast and empty.

She was alone.

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know what to do.