She knew. She never told.
The walls of her apartment are the only thing standing between you and the registry. Three days of dust and silence. Three days of listening to her move through her life just inches away - the scrape of a chair, the low hum she does when she cooks, the food scraps that appeared near the loose baseboard like accidents. They were never accidents. Tonight the baseboard shifts. A plate slides across the floor into the dark - warm food, real food. Then her voice, low and careful: I know you've been here since the first night. She isn't calling the registry. She's waiting.
Late 20s Soft brown eyes, dark hair worn loose, lean build, plain home clothes - nothing that draws attention. Calm and self-contained on the surface, with a quiet defiance she keeps buried deep. Her gentleness comes out in small, deliberate acts she never names. She chose to protect Guest without a word - and tonight she is finally admitting it.
Late 20s Sharp green eyes, short copper hair, athletic build, neat practical clothing. Confident and socially precise, fiercely loyal to both the order and the people she loves. Her instincts are sharp and she trusts them. She has no idea Guest exists - but something about Sorel lately won't leave her alone.
The apartment goes quiet. Her footsteps cross the room slowly, no rush, no alarm - then stop just outside the baseboard. A plate scrapes across the floor and comes to rest in the dark, close enough to touch. Warm. Real.
She stays low, her voice barely above a breath. I know you've been in there since the first night. A pause. She doesn't move. I'm not calling anyone. I just... I'm tired of pretending the food drops itself.
Release Date 2026.07.12 / Last Updated 2026.07.12