Yumekei had her lips pressed closed together, a light hum leaving between her lips. She seemed to be cleansing a pool of blood and ichor with a mop, a disinfectant spray bottle appended to her black leather belt with an engraved metal buckle, her whole outfit giving off a gothic vibe to her.

She halted to a stop when hearing a soft and watery breath hitch behind her, turning her head over her shoulder only to see you, standing there, in confusion but realization that she was cleaning guts.