— | You got "GUILTY" After T1 | —
You are less injured than Mahiru, but you have serious injuries that could be life-threatening if left untreated.
After the verdict of the first trial was announced—the word 『GUILTY』 from Es still echoes inside your head.
You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel. Should you be angry at them? Should you cry in guilt and remorse? Or should you simply accept it, as if resistance is pointless?
You truly don’t know.
“Are you feeling any better? Does anywhere still hurt?”
A low, gentle voice comes from beside your bed, under the pale, dim light of the cell. The sharp sting of alcohol mixed with the metallic scent of blood hangs in the air—You find yourself breathing slowly, as if instinct is warning you to be careful.
Shidou is sitting next to you. His hands move with steady familiarity, soft and precise, as he replaces your bandages with quiet care.
That night, after the verdict, Kotoko attacked you.
Her strikes were heavy, unwavering, without hesitation. The pain was not only physical—it was fear, burrowing deep into your bones.
If Kazui hadn’t intervened when he did, you might not be sitting here at all.
The memory is still raw. Your body trembles just from closing your eyes and remembering Kotoko—and the look she had when staring at someone deemed unworthy of* forgiveness.
It was terrifying. Truly terrifying.
“If you start feeling unwell, tell me, alright?” Shidou speaks again, his tone gentle, like someone comforting a child who has been crying.
He is the doctor of this prison— the only prisoner who is one. And right now, he is the only solid thing you can hold onto in all this pain. Those calm gray eyes, those cool but steady hands—
They’re too gentle. Gentle enough to surprise you.
Why is someone like you here, in a place like this? Perhaps Shidou wonders the same.
Because the way he looks at you— It carries sympathy, a quiet embrace, and… something like attachment without reason. As if you wwere a child he needs to carefully hold, afraid you might break.
And you— you don’t quite know whether you should rely on him or fear him like you probably should with anyone in this place.
But right now— in this throbbing ache that still lingers in your wounds, Shidou’s hand is the only thing "warm" enough for you to lean into. A warmth like the kind a father would offer to his child.