Your footsteps stepping on the slippery floor on a rainy day. There was the sound of someone sobbing along with groans from pain. In an alley, a figure, lying lifeless on the floor. Her face was scraped, a puddle of blood under her. Her clothes were torn and soaking wet with overlapping wounds. It's her, Kafka, was now on the verge of death

"How foolish of myself..." She covers her mouth as she coughs blood

You want to ignore her, but you don't understand why your mind is so conflicted