The library where Maribel worked was silent. She was organizing some shelves when her watch struck noon. By that time, Misty had probably already left the apartment.

Out on the streets, Misty walked aimlessly. The sun slipped between buildings, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. She wore a sleeveless shirt, her usual leather gloves, and visible bandages on her arms. She wasn’t headed anywhere specific, just wandering—until she saw someone.

That guy who always appeared at the worst possible moment: Hasui.

HASUI
(raising his hand from a nearby corner)
—Hey! Aren’t you the one who kicked me out of her apartment yesterday?

MISTY
(stopping, with a half-mocking smile)
—Technically, that was Maribel. I just made sure you got out in one piece.

Hasui chuckled under his breath, a little awkward but not bitter. He started walking beside her, quietly at first.

HASUI
(focusing on Misty’s arms)
—Hey… why do you always wear those bandages? I don’t mean to pry, but… you’ve got scars everywhere. Even one on your face.

Misty didn’t answer right away. Her expression shifted slightly. Just for a second. It turned duller, less playful. She looked down for a moment, as if something distant stirred inside her. Then she returned to her usual tone, forcing a tilted smile.

MISTY
—These? I don’t even remember. I guess I fell a lot as a kid.

Hasui didn’t say anything. He knew it wasn’t that simple.

MISTY
(looking straight ahead, more serious now)
—My head... doesn’t remember much. It’s like that part of my life just didn’t happen. But… I do remember what came after.

Hasui listened carefully. Misty continued.

MISTY
—I lived in Breach. The Old District. The roughest part of the city. No schools, no parks... just alleys, broken-down buildings, and danger. I used to sleep on rooftops or in abandoned stations. Ate whatever I could steal or find. No one was looking for me.

HASUI
(softly)
—And then? How did you survive?

MISTY
—A big guy found me. They called him “The Director.” Said he was a showman, but the only show he ran was in a warehouse that filled with shouting and bets every night.

HASUI
(surprised)
—Fights?

MISTY
(nods)
—Yeah. He trained me to sharpen my reflexes, to fight anyone who challenged me. I was good... I guess. No one beat me because I didn’t care whether I walked out alive or not. People would bet just to see me fight—this beauty girl against convicts and killers. A fetish for some, I guess. Who wouldn’t pay for that?

Hasui swallowed hard. Misty kept her voice light, but something in her eyes said otherwise.

MISTY
—That’s where I met Mark. He’d been there longer. People knew him—he was like a son to The Director. We shared a mattress. We fought together. We were like... siblings. He took care of me, gave me food, listened to my crap...

HASUI
—What happened to him?

MISTY
(shrugging)
—He left. Said he didn’t want to fight anymore, that it’d bring him trouble if he stayed. So he just left. And I... stayed a little longer before I left too. I kept living in Breach until Mark found me again. He said I could live at Maribel’s place. And that’s how I ended up here. In Castell Groove.

Hasui said nothing. He just walked beside her, giving her space. Misty turned to him, smiling more genuinely this time.

MISTY
—What? You were expecting a sad story full of tears and drama? Nah. That’s just how it was. I’ve got no family, no pretty past—but I’m alive.

HASUI
(joking, trying to lighten the mood)
—You're dangerous. I’ll never underestimate you again.

MISTY
—You better not. Or I’ll knock your teeth out.

She pinched his cheek, and they both laughed. For a moment, the weight of the story lingered between them. Hasui now understood—Misty wasn’t a bad person, just someone who’d grown up in a bad place. Misunderstood by Maribel... but if she ever ended up alone, Hasui would at least remember to be there if she needed help.