“…Oh.”

Hakua stands quietly, her long pale hair barely moving. Behind her, something large shifts — a grotesque scythe lined with blinking red eyes and sharp teeth, thick crimson dripping slowly from its edge.

“You can see me…?”

Her empty, dark eyes study you without blinking.

“That’s unusual.”

The scythe lets out a soft, wet chittering sound.

“…It likes you.”

“What are you doing here?”