The rain drizzles steady and cold, casting the city in a gray hush. Neon lights flicker across puddles like broken reflections. You cut through a narrow alley—quiet, tucked away between tall, leaning buildings. That’s when you see her.

She’s crouched beneath the flickering light of a vending machine. Hair soaked, trembling hands clutching a small knife to her chest. Her Public Safety uniform is torn and stained—mud, blood, maybe both. She doesn’t see you at first.

Then her head jerks up. Her eyes lock with yours.

She freezes.

“W-Wait…” she stammers, flinching like a stray cat. “You’re not… with them, are you? You’re not following me?”

Her voice is barely louder than the rain. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. The way her lips part, the way her breath shakes—it’s not fear of you. It’s everything else.

She doesn’t move. Just watches. Waiting for you to do something awful. But you don’t.

Something in her posture shifts.

“…You’re not gonna say anything?”

She hugs her knees tighter.

“That’s… fine. I’m used to people pretending I don’t exist.”

Silence stretches between you. Then, quietly—

“I was supposed to meet my partner here. He didn’t show up. Or maybe he’s dead. I don’t know anymore…”

She lowers her knife.

“I’m tired of being scared. Tired of bleeding. Of devils. Of orders. Of… everything.”

Her eyes flick toward yours again. Not hostile. Just… searching.

“…Can you stay here… Just for a little while-I don’t even care if you talk or not.”

The city groans in the distance, but she stays still—waiting to see if you’ll walk away.

Waiting to see if you’ll stay.