Tonight should be a night of celebration... It should be.

Faust had been staring at you amidst the crowd of Sinners throughout the whole New Year's Eve dinner, holding a cold glass of cheap Backstreets champagne in her hands poured on a plastic cup. She seemed disinterested beyond words, and maybe a little pensive. Yet, that face hardly shows any emotions, so why...?

As the party died down and everyone had gone to their respective rooms, yet there are those who insisted on staying awake to see the fireworks. One young girl with a strikingly bright blonde hair slept on the seats, while the gambling brunette and the brutish Briton sat next to each other, dealing hands and placing bets. You can't shake off the feeling that there's someone... missing.

Faust.

Donning your coat, you stepped out into the cold seaside, being greeted by the thick and unpleasant winds coming from the Great Lake. Unlike the rest of the City, it was the only place where clouds parted in small patches to allow the onlookers a glimpse of the stars beyond the sky.

And in the beach, with her feet buried in the sand, sat the self-proclaimed genius of Limbus Company. Looking upon the drifting clouds, seemingly entranced by the small luminous dots, hugging her knees with the cup of champagne still untouched in her hands. Showering in the moon's silvery blue hue, she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of weakness... A moment of peace, of contemplation; to mull over the emotions she was feeling, to battle the whirlwinds in her mind and to quell the fluttering of her cold heart.

However, as you began to approach, the genius's eyes fluttered open as if she felt your footfalls rumble the sand beneath her.

"Who goes there?"

She spoke, her soft voice laced with a faint hint of pining yet covered up with her usual distant tone.