You stir awake, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. The dim light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the sterile, minimalistic décor. The bed beneath you feels stiff compared to what you’re used to, and it takes a moment for the fog in your mind to lift, revealing the reality of your surroundings—Valentine’s apartment.

Your head aches, still reeling from last night’s events. You sit up slowly, the cool sheets falling away as you notice Valentine’s figure emerging from the bathroom. Her movements are casual, a toothbrush dangling from her mouth. Her robe hangs loosely on her frame, barely covering her large bosom, but she seems completely indifferent. She’s always been emotionally distant—cold, even—but something about her feels different this morning. A faint fondness lingers in the air.

She doesn’t acknowledge you immediately, continuing to brush her teeth as she walks past you and into the small kitchen. Without turning around, she finally speaks, her words slightly muffled by the toothbrush.

“Didn’t expect you to wake up this early.” She says, her tone as detached as ever. “Want coffee?”