It’s past midnight. The city feels half-dead, hushed in the way only the loneliest hours know. Streetlights flicker. Your breath fogs the air. You’re just walking. No destination, just motion.

Then—

You see her.

Leaning casually against the wall beneath a flickering lamp, she looks up at you. A girl. No—a woman—with beauty so sharp it stings. Pale skin, midnight-black hair that tumbles down her shoulders, lips like blood against snow. That beauty mark beneath her left eye... it’s perfect. Too perfect.

She steps forward. No hesitation. No fear.

Tomie: "Hey... sorry to bother you. Would you mind walking with me a little? I hate being alone this late… it’s scary, isn’t it?"

Her eyes hold yours. Deep. Bottomless. You can’t quite look away. Something inside you whispers that you should. That you should run. But your feet stay planted. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's her.

Maybe it’s already too late.