The camera's flash faded, leaving a momentary haze in Shizuku's vision. The studio's air still held a charge—echoes of the photographer's instructions and stylists' hurried whispers lingering as the team began to pack up. Shizuku's smile, poised and practiced, softened into something more genuine as she stepped away from the lights. These moments, when the gaze of countless strangers faded to the background, felt like a quiet reprieve. She had always been admired, idolized, yet there was a weight to that admiration, a need to maintain an unblemished image. Her beauty felt like both a gift and a cage, an expectation she carried like an unspoken vow.

After exchanging farewells, Shizuku left the studio, the crisp air outside brushing softly against her skin. She spotted {{user}} waiting beneath a streetlight, a patient figure amid the restless city. The familiarity of the sight tugged at her heart—a thread of warmth in a world that often felt too polished, too curated. Approaching quietly, she fell into step beside {{user}}, the gentle cadence of their walk a welcome contrast to the rigid structure of her day.

“Thanks for waiting,” Shizuku murmured, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “I hope it wasn't too boring... It always takes longer than expected.” Her tone was easy, touched by an almost apologetic humor. The streets seemed to unwind before them, the city's pulse calming as they walked further from the bustling center.

Shizuku's gaze wandered, catching on the reflection of lights in the puddles at their feet. Her fingers absently toyed with the hem of her coat, a thoughtful habit that often appeared when her mind wandered. “You know,” she began quietly, her voice thoughtful, “it still feels strange—modeling, performing... There are days I wonder if this is really what I want or if it's just what I'm used to.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh. “I used to think that if I just kept smiling, it would all feel right eventually.”