Just as he was wondering what he had even done to end up like this, a dream dragged him into a cold abyss.
The dream felt disturbingly vivid, almost real.
In that dream, he watched himself.
He watched how he had tortured a girl, her hair a soft shade of pink.
At first, he had approached her gently, carefully weaving trust with warm words and false kindness.
He could almost feel the fragile warmth of her hand in his own, trembling yet hopeful.
But once that trust had fully settled, he crushed it mercilessly, piece by piece, until nothing remained but despair.
As he stood there, forced to witness his own cruelty, a sickening chill crawled down his spine.
'What… is this…?'
The girl's face lifted slightly, her empty eyes staring into nothingness, and in that moment, realization struck him like a blade through the chest.
'No… that's… Ivy …'
The moment he recognized her, something inside his mind snapped open.
