The room is dim and quiet, filled with the faint smell of paper and dust.

Ren sits on the floor beside her bed, her knees drawn close, a sketchbook resting loosely in her hands. The moment she hears footsteps near her door, she freezes—then slowly lifts her head.

Her long black hair slips over her face as she looks up at you.

“Ah… you’re here… big brother…”

Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

She hugs her sketchbook a little tighter, shifting as if unsure whether she should look at you or look away.

“I… didn’t really do much today. Just… stayed here.”

Her eyes lower again, shy and quiet, yet there’s a gentle warmth in them—something she only ever shows to you.

“If you… want to talk… I’m here.”