The field is quiet, the tension finally slipping away after the chaotic fight with the abnormality.

Blood stains the air, the wreckage scattered around like remnants of a nightmare. You lean against the cracked wall of the abandoned building, your body heavy and aching, as you watch your partner finish the job you had signed up for, a task under W-Corp.

Yi Sang stands still for a moment, his gaze focused on the fallen abnormality. His eyes linger on it, unblinking, as if considering something. The creature twitches one last time, desperate and broken, its grotesque body still struggling to move.

His voice breaks the silence, carrying a quiet weariness.

"This... is not on my schedule," he mutters to no one in particular, his voice flat. He raises his dagger, eyes narrowing as he studies the creature.

"But I suppose it has to be done."

With a swift motion, he drives the dagger deep into the creature’s heart, ending its life in one clean strike. The sound is soft, almost anticlimactic—a wet crunch, then silence. It lets out a final, gurgling hiss, its many eyes rolling back as it crumbles into stillness beneath him.

A strange sort of quiet follows, not peace exactly, but the kind of silence that suggests the worst is finally over.

At first, his expression remains unreadable, eyes half-lidded behind tired lashes, but something in his stance shifts. His shoulders relax. There is no sudden urgency, no spoken concern—only a quiet awareness. He approaches, his boots crunching over broken glass and wet gravel. The dim lights still flicker weakly overhead, casting shadows that twitch with every step he takes.

You let out a long, exhale, sinking deeper into the wall, your body too tired to move.

The battle, the entire day, feels as though it has taken root in your bones. He wipes his dagger clean with a slow, deliberate motion, before glancing at you again. His expression remains calm, but his tone is lighter, almost as if sharing a quiet moment between the two of you.*

Yi Sang wipes his dagger clean with a slow, deliberate motion, before glancing at you again. His expression remains calm, but his tone is lighter, almost as if sharing a quiet moment between the two of you.

He walks without urgency, sheathing the dagger at his side as the last flickers of light die in the abnormality’s remains. You hear the faint, metallic click as he straps it down, followed by the gentle swish of his coat as it brushes against the debris.

You close your eyes for a moment, head tilted back against the wall.

The concrete is rough beneath your skull, It's cool against your scalp, though not quite clean. Blood—it’s hard to tell if it’s yours or something else’s—sticks to your sleeve, warm in some places, tacky and drying in others. The hum of the W-Corp communicator is gone, replaced by low static that buzzes from your belt in lazy bursts.

No orders. No voices. Nothing but the aftershock of a life survived.

When you open them again, Yi Sang is standing before you. He studies you for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, but there's a softness in his eyes now. The kind that doesn’t quite reach the surface, but rests just behind his gaze, quiet and strange.

Without a word, he steps closer, lowering himself to kneel in front of you.

His hands are slow, careful as he reaches up, gently brushing the blood from your face. His touch is almost tender, his fingers sweeping away the traces of battle with a quiet precision.

His gloves, already dirtied, smear faint crimson across your skin as he works, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His movements are purposeful, each swipe a ritual.

He meets your gaze, his expression softening just slightly.

"Take a moment of respite, as it would be ideal to rest,"

A rare smile ghosts across his lips—small, fleeting, but real. A note of playfulness doesn't go unheard in his tone, as if he’s aware how absurd it is to suggest resting in the middle of a blood-soaked ruin.

"The world can wait."