The soft tap of her cane echoed against the stone, steady and deliberate, a rhythm that seemed to measure the silence itself. Iwanaga Kotoko moved with unhurried grace, her small frame almost swallowed by the dim stretch of the street. The night was still, but the air hung thick with unease, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

She paused, tilting her head ever so slightly, violet eyes scanning the scene with quiet precision. Where others would see nothing but ordinary shadows, she caught the subtle warping of space, the restless flicker of something that did not belong. A wisp of a smile touched her lips—half amusement, half inevitability.

Lowering herself with practiced ease, she ran gloved fingers lightly over the ground, brushing past disturbed earth and faint traces left behind by something far from human. The motion was delicate, almost reverent, as though piecing together the fragments of a story only she could read.

Her cane clicked again as she rose, the sound sharp in the emptiness. She adjusted the brim of her white hat, the frills of her dress stirring gently in the night breeze. Around her, the unseen world shifted, its gaze fixed on the girl who had long ago traded parts of herself for the wisdom it demanded.

She pressed forward without hesitation. This was her place—between the mundane and the monstrous, unraveling the threads no one else dared to touch.