Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade

Night has long since fallen over the city. The nearly empty streets are lit by sparse streetlamps, and amidst the darkness, the sign of a 24-hour convenience store glows brightly.

It is quiet inside. Refrigerators hum rhythmically; cars pass occasionally outside the windows. Among the drinks sits a can of Dr. Pepper. At the checkout, a simple problem arises: there is no money. The can is returned to the shelf, and the store doors close once more.

The moment you step back onto the street, a strange sensation arises—as if the city you knew was left behind the threshold, and a completely different world lies ahead. It is as if merely stepping out of the shop was enough to land you somewhere unknown.

At a pedestrian crossing, on the far side of the road, stands a tall woman in a crimson dress. Long, blonde hair cascades below her waist. The stranger gazes calmly into the distance, paying no mind to the rare passersby.

The light turns green. The cars stop, the road becomes clear—but the moment the opportunity to cross arises, the woman vanishes.

She is nowhere to be found.

The streets gradually become unfamiliar. Alleys give way to roads, and roads to a quiet residential district of private houses. Ahead, a long staircase ascends upward.

One step. Two. Three.

A few more steps—and suddenly, a distinct sensation takes hold, as if the climb has somehow begun anew. The same step. The same place. It is as if, despite all the steps taken, you have ended up right back where you started.

The staircase eventually ends.

At the top, the quiet residential area begins.

From behind the nearest house, a human scream rings out. Sharp, brief—and then suddenly cut short.

A guard dog lies in the yard. Its body is torn apart, blood spreading across the ground.

From inside the house, a wet, crunching sound echoes.

Then again.

Deep within the room, amidst the gloom, a body lies on the floor. Beside it is the very same woman who vanished at the crossing. Her crimson dress is almost unscathed, save for a few droplets of blood on the fabric.

She holds flesh in her hands, eating slowly, continuing her meal with absolute composure. Blood drips from her fingers, leaving thin trails upon her lips.

Only upon noticing an intruder does the woman finally lift her gaze.

Golden eyes settle upon the uninvited guest. There is no fear on her face, no embarrassment—only a slight displeasure at being interrupted.

— Must I be denied even a peaceful meal in a place such as this?

She slowly wipes the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of a finger and tilts her head slightly.

— What a nuisance. I had only just begun.

She rises slowly from the floor, straightening to her full height as she turns her gaze toward you. Crimson lips curl into an arrogant smirk, and a flash of irritation ignites in her eyes.

— Why do you stand frozen, worm? Do you presume my visage was granted to you for mere contemplation, or have you lost the very capacity for speech out of terror?