The night after the missions, the city sounded like a wound that wouldn't stop humming.
Ryu didn't sleep. Not because the cuts throbbed — they would scar and settle — but because of the silence that filled everything else. The sterile hum of the room, the far hiss of traffic, the small mechanical breath of the bandage over her side.
She started counting the beats between thoughts. The wounds itched with routine. The silence ached with a different hunger.
And soon her sleep came too.
The room was dark, but it wasn't empty.
A coldness surrounded Ryu like a second skin, heavy, suffocating. The silence screamed louder than gunshots.
Shadows crawled on the cracked walls of the auction hall, the living room ... the one she had tried to erase from her memory.
The flickering light trembled like her breath. She stood frozen on the stained carpet, the air reeking of old blood and burnt fabric.
The photo frame on the wall ... their family picture was shattered, crooked, as if it too had been burnt in the fire of the hall.
Her mother stood across the room.
Smiling.
No warmth. No welcome. Just that twisted smile.
"You always ruin things," her mother whispered, voice low and venomous.
"I should have done this years ago."
Before Ryu could move, her mother lunged... hands clawing, nails tearing skin.
RYU screamed... no sound came.
The hand tightened.
A second too long. A second from death.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
And the world shattered.
Ryu gasped as she bolted upright in bed, lungs searching for air. A cold sweat slicked her skin. Her chest heaved, each breath a ragged struggle against an invisible weight. Her hands trembled. She touched her throat instinctively.
It was there, unbruised.
She pressed her palms against her temples. A low moan escaped her, pulling her knees to her chest. She curled into a tight ball, trembling, the dam of her composure finally shattering.
Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down her face.
The door creaked open, a sliver of hallway light cutting the dark.
Vesper stood there, a silhouette against the faint glow, her presence a silent question. She moved with quiet efficiency, closing the door behind her, plunging the room back into near-darkness.
A soft sigh escaped Vesper's lips as she watched Ryu's shaking form.
"A nightmare?" Vesper's voice was low, devoid of judgment, a calm counterpoint to Ryu's internal storm.
She didn't wait for an answer, simply crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.
Ryu shook her head, unable to speak, her body trembling with silent sobs. The memory of her hands, stained red, the sickening sound of bodies hitting the ground, played on repeat.
"They will get worse in the future." Vesper's fingers, surprisingly gentle, brushed a stray of hair from Ryu's tear-streaked face.
"The faces. The sounds. They cling like leeches."
Ryu finally found her voice, a broken whisper. "I… I can't. I can't stop seeing them. All of them. Have I become a monster, Vesper?"
Vesper touches Ryu's hair in a motion that is to soothe a child. Her gaze, usually sharp and unyielding, softened.
"No. You're a tool. A weapon.
And like any weapon, you carry the marks of its use, Ryu." She paused, "A human who feels. That's a luxury most of us lost long ago."
Ryu leaned into her, a desperate need for warmth overriding her shame. "It hurts," she choked out, burying her face into Vesper's shoulder. The scent of leather gives her a strange comfort.
"It hurts so much."
Vesper's arm wrapped around Ryu's shaking frame. She didn't speak, just held her, letting Ryu weep into her shoulder.
The fabric of Vesper's shirt grew damp, but she didn't pull away. She remembered Georgia, the orphanage, the nights she cried herself to sleep after the beatings, the desperate hunger for a touch that never came.
Ryu's sobs gradually subsided, replaced by shallow, shuddering breaths.
"Rest," Vesper murmured, her voice a low thrum against Ryu's ear.
"Just rest."
Ryu's body curled against Vesper's side. The rhythmic thump of Vesper's heart was a slow, steady drum, the warmth of her arm, the faint smell of leather mingling with Ryu's fear, the slight rise and fall of her chest, pulling Ryu away from her own frantic heartbeat.
The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, is heavy and insistent. Vesper continued to hold her, her other hand gently stroking Ryu's hair until the tremors in Ryu's body stilled.
Ryu remained, her face buried against Vesper's chest, the last vestiges of her nightmare finally chased away by the quiet comfort of another's presence.
Vesper murmured almost inaudibly, "Will he be affected by the incident too?"
Vesper slowly shut the door, the soft click a stark contrast to the chaos still echoing in her mind. Ryu lay on the cot, bandages stark white against her pale skin, finally still.