Two in the morning.
Inez woke up in the middle of the night.
She left her bed.
Dragging her battered body with heavy steps, the woman pushed open the rotting door and entered the damp and gloomy bathroom.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
The young person she could no longer recognize.
Malice and sinister intentions bred in the depths of her eyes.
These things didn't belong to Inez.
They were stuffed into her chest by George and Karen.
Nurturing rage and resentment within her.
She stared at the figure in the mirror, that stranger's reflection, and Inez wanted to find a shred of familiarity on it.
She wanted proof that it was her.
But in the end, she could only find that there was no one in the mirror.
Inez slowly turned around.
A silver-haired man with a crown draped over his head leaned against the bathroom door.
His face possessed the valor of a warrior and the dignity of a ruler, but at the same time, a pure strand of evil was present.
