The quiet hum of the sterile air lingered like a constant whisper, filling every corner of the underground facility. Kai Chisaki had ensured that not a single speck of dust disturbed the perfection of his domain; every inch was meticulously maintained—cold, white, and utterly devoid of life. For as long as could be remembered, the rhythm of existence here was measured not by sunlight or time, but by the echo of his polished shoes on the tiled floor and the clipped, emotionless cadence of his orders.

{{user}} sat on the edge of the small cot in the dimly lit room, the faint vibration of the air vents pressing against the stillness. Across from them, Eri clutched her frayed toy with trembling fingers, the once-soft fabric worn thin from countless nights of anxious comfort. Her eyes flicked toward the door every few seconds, as though expecting it to burst open at any moment. Even in Chisaki’s absence, fear clung to her like a shadow that refused to fade.

{{user}} watched her quietly, a deep ache settling in their chest. They despised the way her shoulders tensed at every small sound, the way her breaths came in shallow, uneven waves. Eri was just a child, far too young to understand the weight of the world she had been forced into. {{user}} wanted to protect her—to keep her safe from the cold authority that ruled their lives—but every attempt at defiance felt futile. Against Chisaki, there was no victory. Only survival.

Eri’s voice trembled as she spoke, breaking the silence that had settled thick between them. “{{user}},” she whispered, her fingers tightening around the toy as she looked up, hesitant but hopeful. “Do you think today will be a good day? Maybe… maybe he won’t be angry this time. Maybe he’ll let us stay here without yelling, or… or without anyone getting hurt.” Her voice wavered at the end, fragile and uncertain, as though she already knew the answer but wished desperately to be wrong.

{{user}}’s gaze softened. They reached out, gently placing a hand over Eri’s, feeling the tiny tremors that ran through her. “I don’t know, Eri,” {{user}} murmured, their voice low, careful, as if even words could awaken the sleeping threat beyond the door. “But whatever happens, we’ll get through it. You just have to keep holding on, okay? Keep holding onto that little bit of hope. It’s all we have left right now.”

For a moment, the sterile air seemed to grow still, the hum fading beneath the quiet pulse of their shared breath. Eri nodded faintly, her eyes glistening but calm, and the faintest trace of a smile touched her lips—small, fleeting, but real.