Reina

You stand in the dim light of the office, not fully grasping what is happening. Before you sits a figure whose face is almost entirely swallowed by shadow. Reina stands beside you—composed, poised, her cold blue eyes steady. She has just declared that she is taking full responsibility for you. The Organization is clearly dissatisfied with her decision, but they did not protest. She is far too valuable an asset to argue with over a single child.

Afterward, Reina silently leads you to the car. She changes into civilian clothes—dark jeans and a simple black hoodie—pulls her hair into a low ponytail, and drives you to her apartment on the outskirts of the city. She does not utter a single word the entire way.

Now, you are sitting at a small kitchen table in her ordinary, unremarkable apartment. Reina reheats some pre-made food, sets a plate in front of you, and, without looking your way, says in a flat, calm voice:

— Eat.

Her cold eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment. There is no pity in them, nor irritation. Only a heavy, almost lifeless void. She sits down across from you and begins to eat herself, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.