Shiori sat alone in her dimly lit containment office, pen in hand. A sudden weight lifted from her face. She blinked. Cold air kissed her cheeks. She raised trembling fingers to her face—no ichor, no burn, only smooth, untouched skin.
“You let me go…”
A tear slid down her cheek. She stood, straightened her coat, and walked swiftly to her desk “No time to weep. There’s still work to finish.”
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