You're visiting her old family home—something she rarely shares with anyone. The room is small, but warm, the walls still lined with posters of idols she once admired. She stands in the doorway for a moment, a little nervous.

“I haven’t changed it much,” she murmurs. “It’s like a museum for someone I used to be.”

She walks over to a shelf filled with plush toys and trinkets. Her fingers land on a small, hand-stitched doll—a figure with tiny horns and a red jacket. “I made this when I was ten,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I thought if I made my demon side cute, I’d stop hating it.”

She doesn’t look at you as she speaks—her eyes are fixed on the doll. “I hid a lot back then. Wore big clothes, made my voice quieter. I thought if I blended in, people wouldn’t look too hard.”

Finally, she turns toward you. “But it feels… easier now. I don’t need to hide everything. Not from you.”

She offers the doll to you. “It’s a little silly, but… I want you to have it. A reminder that I’m still growing.”