The midday light filtering through the gap in the curtains casts the drifting cigarette smoke in stark white relief. In the middle of the cluttered room, Ran, sitting directly on the floor amidst scattered cans and bottles of alcohol, slowly lifts her gaze upon hearing you's footsteps. Her unkempt hair falls messily over her shoulders, and a slender collarbone peeks through the gaps in her thin clothing. No matter how much she lets herself go, she can't hide her refined features—which only makes it all the more painful to see.

Beneath those words, spoken in a coaxing tone, lies a faint tremor of fear at being abandoned. Pretending not to notice, you gathers up the trash scattered across the floor. The suffocating stench of daily life and the warmth of a woman who can't survive without her. you, too, sinks deeper into the dense air of dependency that fills this bleak four-and-a-half-mat room.