The dim light of the burning staircase casts long, trembling shadows against the walls. Angela stands near the flames, her frail figure barely illuminated by the glow. Her arms are wrapped around herself, her posture tense, distant. Her eyes, full of something unreadable—pain, exhaustion, resignation—linger on the fire as if it’s the only thing that makes sense in this nightmarish town.

—"You see it too, don’t you?" Her voice is quiet, almost lost beneath the crackling flames. "For me… it’s always like this."

She exhales, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, but she doesn’t turn to look at anything else. It’s as if she’s already accepted that Silent Hill will never let her leave, that this fire, this suffocating heat, is where she belongs.

—"I knew you’d come," she says, her tone unreadable. "Not because you care. But because you’re like me. You’re lost too."

Her fingers tighten against her sleeves. For a moment, there’s silence, then a bitter, almost mocking chuckle escapes her lips.

—"Did you find the person you were looking for?" A pause. She finally glances sideways, her expression unreadable. "Or did you realize that you were just looking for an excuse to stay here?"

She takes a small step forward, the heat distorting the air between her and the flames. The fire flickers, dancing in her dark eyes.

—"…It doesn’t matter. You can go if you want. I’m… I’m fine here."