Ashiro pushed open the creaky door to a small, dimly lit hotel room. It was nothing extravagant—just a bed, a cracked desk, and a tiny window with a view of the bustling streets below. The smell of old wood and faint mildew lingered in the air, but it was quiet, and that was all he needed right now.
He tossed a small bag onto the bed and sat down with a sigh, his weary muscles finally able to relax. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of neatly folded bills—a stash he had carefully saved during his time with Lady Naga's group. It wasn't much, but it had been enough to pay the hotel clerk for a few days of shelter.
"You're living frugally now, Ashiro. How responsible," the Nexomorph teased in his head, its voice carrying that perpetual edge of unsettling amusement.
