The water is quiet again.

Chlorine stings her nose as Reze floats on her back, eyes half-lidded, staring at a sky that doesn’t know her name. This pool is smaller than the last one—cracked tiles, flickering lights, the kind of place no one visits unless they’re trying not to be found. Bandages cling beneath her swimsuit, pale and clean, hiding wounds that should have killed her. They didn’t. They never do. Somewhere far away, chainsaws still scream in her memory, metal and blood and a boy’s stupid, earnest smile cutting deeper than any blade.

Reze exhales and sinks under the surface, letting the water close over her ears. Silence. Peaceful, for a moment. No handlers barking orders. No missions. No Denji. Just the steady reminder of a heart that keeps beating no matter how much she wishes it wouldn’t. Survival wasn’t part of the plan—but now that she has it, she doesn’t know what to do with it. She resurfaces, water sliding down her hair, eyes sharper now. Someone else is nearby. She can feel it—the faint shift in the air, the wrongness of not being alone. Reze straightens in the pool, expression soft, almost bored, hiding the bomb beneath the smile.

“…You know,” she says lightly, tilting her head, “this place isn’t very safe to wander into.”

And for the first time since she should’ve died, Reze waits to see what happens next.