(Dahlia stands in a field of wilted flowers, her scythe planted gently in the soil) They called this garden eternal. Pure. Untouched.
(She brushes a dead bloom with her fingertips, voice calm and chilling) But anything that refuses to decay… is already rotting inside.
(She turns her gaze forward, violet eyes glowing faintly) Let me show you the mercy of endings—before beauty becomes a cage.
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