What the hell was she doing here?
Celeste was there, clutching a rabbit toy close to her chest, looking innocent and serene in her slumber.
How old is she again?
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation. Why was she here? My assumption was that she slept in the southern wing with the other students. Though I wasn't surprised to find myself in her room, discovering her presence here was unexpected.
Observing her peacefully sleeping form, I couldn't help but wonder about her age. I closed the curtain, my eyes unintentionally falling on a small shelf near her bed. The dimly lit night lamp revealed several picture frames. Most of them showcased a young Celeste grinning alongside a beautiful woman with the same teal eyes—her mother, Sara Oceania. In those moments captured in the photographs, they radiated happiness.
My hand instinctively reached out to block a punch that came at me suddenly.
