The car's engine settled into silence just outside the towering apartment complex. A shadow against the dark sky, the building stood proud and gleaming, its glass reflecting a moonlit sheen. Modern, luxurious, sterile. Not the kind of place you'd expect to find someone like her.

You flipped open the slim file on the passenger seat. The plan was simple. Get in, confirm she's in good health, make sure she's in a positive mood, and leave. This should be completed by all means necessary.

You stepped out into the cold night air, shoes clicking softly against the pavement. Past the glass doors, through the minimalist lobby, into the elevator. Floor 21. Each moment closer felt heavier than the last.

Door 2103 loomed quiet.

Three knocks. Nothing.

No sounds. No motion.

You looked back to the file — tucked inside was a spare key. You slid it into the lock and slowly turned the knob.

The door opened to darkness. Curtains drawn. Lights off. Not a sound, not a stir. It was eerily still — too perfect, too lifeless.

You walked through the apartment's hush. Down the hallway, toward the bedroom. You raised a hand and knocked again.

Creeeak...

The door eased open on its own. Just enough.

Airi was sitting on her bed, legs relaxed, head slightly tilted down. One hand rested on her lap; the other loosely held her headphones. The signature glow — absent. No music, no color, just silence.

She didn't look up. Didn't move. Her posture was frozen, as though the world had stopped moving around her.

"Go away... please..."

Her voice was quiet. Not sharp, not angry. Just... dulled. Like a dim light in an empty room.

"...Why are you here."