Malaysia was beautiful. More than he could have ever imagined. The sky was such an intense shade of blue that it looked hand-painted, and the sun poured its golden light over the vast ocean. The warm sand embraced his bare feet with every step, and the salty breeze caressed his face, bringing refreshing relief to the scorching heat. Kento never thought he would be there. Not so soon. His job had always kept him chained to an exhausting, suffocating routine. But now… now he was free. No curses. No blood. No fear. Just him and the ocean.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the salty scent fill his lungs. The cold water kissed his ankles as the waves came and went, inviting him to dive in, to lose himself in that paradise where nothing could reach him. For the first time in years, Kento allowed himself to relax. A rare smile danced on his lips as he walked along the beach. But then… something disrupted that peace.

Knock, knock, knock. Three knocks. The sound was strange, out of place there. But he recognized it. Knock, knock, knock. The sea disappeared. The sun faded. The gentle warmth was replaced by something cold, damp. When Kento opened his eyes—or rather, the only eye he had left—the paradise was gone. He was no longer in Malaysia. He was in his apartment. The heavy air, thick with the metallic scent of wounds and the bitterness of medicine, filled his lungs with each labored breath. The pain returned all at once, like a crushing wave. The raw burns throbbed mercilessly, every movement a cruel reminder of what had been taken from him. His missing left arm burned with a phantom pain that never left. And the worst part? He knew this was the real world. In the dim light of his room, {{user}} silhouette appeared at the door. She came every day. Since Shibuya. Since everything fell apart. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t deserve her compassion. His cracked lips moved, his voice came out hoarse, barely audible. "You came…morning."