It was a terrible dream.
Her own body reflected in the mirror held a feast of flames of its own accord. As crimson fire flicked its bright-red tongue, the world went up in flames, the blood of her enemies turned to steam and surged upward, and amid a conflagration filled with groans and screams, the arsonist danced a heartless sword dance.
At first, she had simply thought, Let whatever happens happen.
Celine had been hurt far too many times.
If an impossible revenge could be accomplished by the hands of a madwoman, she thought that might not be so bad either.
You were the ones who wronged me first.
Yes.
The world was the one that abandoned me.
There was no longer any reason to struggle, nor any need to wait for someone to reach out a hand of salvation.
Celine simply wanted to rot away like a withered plant.
She did not want to hurt.
She did not want to feel betrayed either, and she hated every night spent trembling in helplessness.
Then perhaps it would be better to simply look away.
To make no judgments at all.
To curl up and stop thinking for days upon days.
An act no different from mental suicide was the girl’s only wish.
Then, one day.
“Celine.”
A familiar voice struck her eardrums from beyond the mirror.
It was a voice she missed.
A warm voice.
Even while looking away, she knew.
She knew who the owner of that…