The village should be waking up right now. Instead, there is only silence - no dogs barking, no cart wheels, no children laughing in the early cold. Just still air and the smell of something wrong carried on the morning breeze. Then the door opens. Rem stands in the light, her white apron dark with stains that have no innocent explanation. Her blue hair is slightly loose. Her expression is soft, almost shy - the same face that once brought you breakfast without being asked. She tilts her head and smiles like she just finished folding laundry. I took care of them. The words land gently. That is the worst part. She means every syllable as a gift - and somewhere beneath the horror, she is waiting for you to thank her.