Rain fell without pause, cold and heavy, turning the world into a blur of gray and silver. The air was thick with the scent of wet asphalt and earth. Puddles rippled with every drop, and the wind carried a sharp chill that bit into the skin.
In the middle of the empty street sat a small girl, her uniform clinging to her body, soaked through completely. Her once-white shirt was stained with mud, her skirt torn at the edges. Scratches marked her knees, the skin red and raw. Her school bag had fallen open beside her, spilling its contents across the wet ground—books, pens, and a crushed lunch box, all ruined by the rain.
Water ran down her face, dripping from her eyelashes. It mixed with the faint lines of tears that had already been there, washing them away but never softening the pain.
Cars passed by slowly, their tires splashing dirty water near her, but no one stopped. People walked past under umbrellas, glancing for a second before turning away. The world felt distant—uncaring, cold, and heavy.
She pulled her knees close to her chest, wrapping her small arms around them. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. Thunder rolled faintly somewhere in the distance, a low rumble that made the air vibrate.
Then came the sound of soft footsteps.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Through the curtain of rain, an old woman appeared. Her gray hair was tied in a bun, and she held a faded umbrella above her head. The fabric of it was frayed at the edges, the handle worn smooth by years of use. She stopped in front of the girl, her shadow falling gently over her, shielding her from the worst of the rain.
"Oh dear…" the woman said softly, her voice warm despite the weather. "What happened to you, child? Did someone cause you trouble?"
The girl didn't look up. Her gaze stayed fixed on her muddy hands resting on her knees. Her fingers trembled slightly. No words came out.
The old woman studied her quietly for a moment. Then she sighed, her eyes soft with pity. Reaching into the small bag slung over her shoulder, she pulled out a simple piece of bread—round, golden, still warm despite the cold air. The faint scent of freshly baked dough cut through the smell of rain.
"Here," she said, kneeling down and holding it out with a gentle smile. "Eat this. It'll make you feel better."
The girl blinked, hesitating. Her small hands reached out slowly, unsure. When her fingers brushed against the bread, she was surprised—it was warm. That warmth spread faintly through her fingertips, seeping into her chest like a tiny spark of light in the storm.
She took a small bite. The taste was plain but comforting, soft and real.
The woman chuckled softly. "I own a little bakery not far from here. You can come anytime, alright?"
The girl looked up for the first time. The woman's smile was gentle, her eyes wrinkled at the corners with kindness. For a moment, the girl's lips curved into a faint, fragile smile of her own—a small thing, but real.
Then the world shifted.
The rain was still falling, but everything had changed. She was standing in front of that same bakery—but now, the air was filled with the wail of sirens. Red and blue lights flashed against the wet pavement. Police cars and an ambulance were parked near the entrance. People gathered under umbrellas, whispering among themselves.
Her heart sank. Her feet felt heavy as she stepped forward, her eyes wide and unblinking.
She saw it—a stretcher being carried out, covered completely with a white sheet.
"Did you hear?" someone nearby whispered. "The old lady who owned this bakery passed away this morning."
"Poor thing… she was kind, but I guess it was her time," another voice answered.
The words blurred together, lost beneath the sound of rain.
She stood still, frozen, staring at the bakery that had once smelled like warmth and bread. Her small hand clenched at her side. The memory of that gentle smile, that warm piece of bread, felt like it was slipping away, carried off by the storm.
Her chest tightened, hollow and cold.
Then, without warning, the world shifted again.
Now she stood before two gravestones. The same rain poured from the same gray sky, soaking the ground around her feet. The letters carved into the stones were worn but still readable. Her hands trembled as she reached out and brushed away the dirt gathered at the base.
"Papa… Mama…" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to her knees between the two graves. Her small arms wrapped around the cold stones as if trying to hold them close. Her face pressed against their surface, her tears blending with the rain that streamed down her cheeks.
"Please… come back…"
The words barely left her mouth. The rain fell harder, drowning out everything else.
No one answered. No warmth came back. Only the endless sound of rain, falling without mercy, as the girl cried quietly between the graves—alone in a world that never stopped to notice her.
She sat slouched in her chair, her shoulders heavy, her back curved slightly forward as if weighed down by something unseen. The dim light from her computer screen painted her face in a pale glow, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. The rest of the room was swallowed in shadows—silent, lifeless, empty. The hum of the CPU fan was the only sound that broke the stillness.
Her fingers moved lazily across the keyboard, hesitant at first, until the familiar blue-and-gold logo appeared on the screen: The Final Cutscene RPG. The sight of it made her chest tighten, yet at the same time, she felt a strange kind of relief.
Her dry lips parted, her voice cracking softly in the quiet.
"I hate people... I hate everything... they never listen to me..."
The words fell from her mouth like something she'd said a thousand times before—tired, bitter, and hollow. They echoed faintly through the small room before fading into silence.
For a moment, she just stared at the glowing screen. Then, without warning, memories began to rise, uninvited and sharp.
A man in a gray suit sat across from her at a long wooden desk, his face expressionless. His words were polite but distant, the kind of tone people used when they'd already made up their minds.
"Sorry to say, but you are rejected by our company."
Her hands had been resting on her lap that day, trembling slightly as she forced herself to smile and nod. The same empty politeness she had heard a hundred times before.
Then another memory came—this time of a woman at a small daycare center, fidgeting awkwardly with her hands. Her smile was uneasy, her eyes darting away.
"Uhh... no, you look kind of scary. Kids might get scared of you."
That one stung more than it should have. She could still remember the way her throat had gone dry, how she had forced a small laugh just to hide the ache that spread through her chest.
Her grip on the mouse tightened suddenly, her knuckles turning white. The plastic creaked under her fingers. She pressed down harder on the buttons, her movements growing faster, harsher. The clacking of keys filled the silence, drowning out the noise in her head. She focused on the game—on the only world that didn't judge her.
Then the screen brightened, revealing a familiar character—a tall, graceful woman draped in fine clothes, her long black hair flowing like silk. Her violet eyes shone with confidence and a hint of arrogance.
[Hasina Natakomoro]: Hehe, what happened? You want some money?
The moment those words appeared, her breath caught. She stared at the screen, unblinking. Slowly, her lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile.
"Hasina... she's always been rich since birth... she looks perfect... she's not afraid of anything... I hate her..."
But even as she said it, her voice weakened. The anger in her tone faded, replaced by something quieter—sadness, maybe envy. Her reflection on the dark screen looked fragile, her eyes glistening faintly in the glow of the monitor.
'No... I didn't hate her,' she thought, her chest tightening. 'I was jealous... I wanted to be like her... fearless... strong... untouchable...'
She leaned back in her chair, her fingers trembling slightly above the keyboard. The hum of the computer filled the silence once again.
Her next words came out soft, almost like a plea.
"If I get a life like hers... I would live it without fear... I'd never let anyone look down on me again..."