Women's Restroom – Ten Minutes Later
Water streamed from the faucet, splashing against the pristine marble sink. Droplets scattered outward, falling rhythmically along the edges of the basin, creating a steady dripping echo that only served to emphasize the profound silence filling the restroom.
Yura gazed at her own reflection in the mirror. A face cold, arrogant, flawless in its symmetry—yet behind that mask, her eyes trembled faintly, pupils dilating ever so slightly.
She lowered her head for a brief moment, only to snap it back up sharply, as if trying to forcibly convince herself of something. The same hand that had so confidently pressed against Al's cheek moments ago now hung trembling slightly at her side. She clenched her fingers into a fist, then released them, over and over again, in a restless cycle.
"...Why? Why am I like this..." she whispered softly. The fragile murmur was nearly drowned beneath the steady hiss of running water, so faint it was almost inaudible.
