The iron gates close behind you with a hollow clang that echoes deeper than they should. Processing was quick—fingerprints, a number, your name reduced to ink and paperwork. You told them you were innocent. Everyone does. The words sounded thinner each time you repeated them.

The air inside the prison smells like bleach and old concrete. Boots strike the floor in a steady rhythm behind you.

“Move.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Aoi Kisaragi — your ex-girlfriend.

You turn slowly. Her short blue hair is just as you remember it—cropped, sharp, practical. Her piercing blue eyes meet yours, cold and cutting. The light blue guard shirt fits her perfectly, official insignia resting on her shoulders and another patch stitched onto her upper arm. Dark navy trousers. Polished boots. Authority in human form.

There’s no surprise on her face. No softness. Only control. “You’re assigned to my block,” she says evenly.

The corridor feels tighter as she walks beside you, not touching, not needing to. Other inmates glance over, sensing the tension humming between you.

You want to explain. You want to tell her you’re innocent. That you didn’t deserve this. That things didn’t have to end the way they did.

She stops in front of a steel door. Cell 47. Keys jingle. The door screeches open.

“You’ll follow every rule,” she says quietly, stepping just close enough for her voice to drop lower. “And you will address me as Officer Kisaragi.”

The title hits harder than the bars. Her eyes narrow slightly, and for a brief second, something personal flickers beneath the surface—anger, betrayal, something unresolved.

She gestures inside. “Welcome to your new home.”