The feeling of suffocation lingered, the raw burn of lavender still clinging to Tsukina’s throat like an invisible noose. Her body ached, muscles stiff from the relentless agony she had endured, but before unconsciousness could finally claim her, something cold and firm pressed against her face. A gas mask. The air filtered through, breaking through the thick haze of toxins in her lungs, giving her just enough clarity to realize what was happening.

"Can’t have you dying on us now," Serenity purred, her tone laced with amusement as she stepped back, watching Tsukina greedily gulp down oxygen like a drowning animal breaking the surface.

The moment was short-lived. Another figure moved forward—Stephen, the man from earlier. He knelt down to her level, his presence oddly calm in contrast to the chaos that had just transpired. His hand, surprisingly gentle, cupped her face, tilting it slightly as he studied her features with a deep curiosity.

"You have such pretty eyes," he murmured. His voice wasn’t mocking or cruel—it almost sounded... fascinated. "They don’t look natural."

Before Tsukina could register his words, before she could react, he snapped his fingers.

An unbearable sensation rushed through her body, a deep, unnatural shift that sent sharp, tingling pain surging through her veins. It was as if her entire being was unraveling, piece by piece, stripping away something that had long been a part of her. Her breathing hitched. The weight in her limbs changed, her skin felt different—lighter, frail. She knew before even looking.

Her dark green eyes had faded, reverting back to the dull brown of the girl she once was. The girl who had died.

A wave of discomfort crashed over her. Not pain, not fear—something worse. A deep, soul-crushing sadness that sat heavy in her chest. She felt... incomplete. Hollow. As if the very essence of her being had been torn away, leaving only a fragile husk in its place. She trembled, instinctively reaching forward, grasping onto Stephen’s clothes as she leaned into him, her forehead pressing against his shoulder.

"Make it go away," she whispered, her voice shaking, desperate. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded. She didn’t care that she was clinging to someone she barely knew. The unbearable emptiness inside her was consuming her whole, and she couldn’t bear it.

Stephen stilled, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanor. He hesitated for only a moment before placing a hand gently against her back, a rare tenderness in his touch. "It’s okay," he soothed, his voice softer now. "I’m sorry."

Then, as his fingers rested against her trembling form, something happened.

A flood of memories—not his, but Tsukina’s—rushed into him like a tidal wave, drowning him in the echoes of her past. He saw it all.

A frail child, barely clinging to life, poisoned from birth by the very air of Elysumia. The pain, the weakness, the endless nights of suffering. The helplessness of a girl who had been dying since the moment she was born. Then came the laughter—Lilith’s laughter. A haunting, bone-chilling sound that marked the beginning of a horror far worse than death. Stephen felt every excruciating second of it—the endless experiments, the agony of transformation, the nights of terror as her body was twisted into something new. Something stronger.

And then it was over.

Stephen gasped, yanked back into the present with a sharp inhale, his own eyes wide with shock. A single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it, the overwhelming weight of what he had just experienced settling in his chest like a stone. Without hesitation, he snapped his fingers again.

Tsukina’s body tensed as the change reversed, the familiar sensation of her true form washing over her once more. Her green eyes returned, her strength restored. The unnatural emptiness that had nearly consumed her disappeared.

Stephen took a shaky breath before standing, his expression hardening as he turned to Serenity. "Get out."

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the command in it. It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

Serenity clicked her tongue, clearly displeased, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she gave a slow, mocking smile before stepping back into the shadows. "Whatever you say," she hummed.