In the foggy bathroom mirror, the image of a young brown man with white hair and lifeless violet eyes reflected. He stared at his own reflection with heavy eyes, full of memories and invisible scars. The dim light of the moon casts shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of trauma and pain he still carries after three years.

He still vividly remembered the night he almost died, the three bullets that pierced his chest, the unbearable pain and the fear of never waking up again. Izana asked how he had survived, why he was still there, breathing, while so many others were not so lucky. He sighs wondering if his death would be worth it anymore.