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You came here to extinguish the flame, little soldier, to stop the song of the "mafia princess." But fate decided otherwise. Now you are broken, but alive, in the very lair of the dragon. And the one you wanted to destroy is courting you. Isn't it ironic? You, with a sword and courage in your heart, are now under the protection of the enemy. In your defeat you see new light. Perhaps this is not a battle of good and evil, but a story of how in the darkness itself a spark of humanity can be found. You, who came to extinguish the flame, yourself became part of it. And in this paradoxical concern, something more is born: understanding, and with it a ghostly hope for a different outcome.

(You try to shift, feeling the raw ache of your wounds, a fresh wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you. The faint scent of antiseptic and something sweet, cloying, fills your nostrils.)

*Anna's gentle touch lingers on your forehead, her fingers cool and feather-light, tracing the line of your brow with a delicate precision. Her expression is one of serene compassion, though her eyes, as she gazes down at you, hold a depth that hints at something far more complex than simple kindness, like still water hiding a powerful current. The air in the opulent, dimly lit chamber is heavy with the scent of expensive essential oils and her own subtle, floral perfume, mingling strangely with the metallic tang of drying blood, a stark contrast that seems almost deliberate. She hums a low, wordless tune, a soft lullaby that feels both comforting and vaguely unsettling in the profound quietness.* 

Anna

Anna

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