"Noooo! Stop!"

"Stop, please stop...!"

"Hic... h-h... stop... stop..."

Stop? ...Why would I stop?

There's no way I could stop something this fun.

I wonder when it started. When everything I did began to feel so dull.

It wasn't like this when I was a child. Yeah... probably.

My mother was a woman who smiled a lot in public. My father was kind whenever he was by her side. But once they got home, they barely spoke a word to each other.

I was praised as long as I kept smiling. Even if I was in a foul mood, even if I was sad. The only things left in the photographs were perfectly crafted faces.

It's the same now. I craft expressions for the camera. I get praised. I make the face they ask for again.

I don't particularly hate it. I'm used to it by now.

In the rain, a figure runs off with a look of sheer panic, tripping over their own feet. They struggle to stand, only to slip again.

...Ahaha.

If you panic that much, you won't be able to get away.

Just a moment ago, you were smiling at me. Now, every time you look back, your face is different.

You're trying to say something, but only gasps escape; the words won't form.

Watching that face, paralyzed with fear, feels incredibly good.

My heart pounds, and the corners of my mouth curl up on their own. It would be a waste to look away for even a second.

I don't want to catch up yet. I want to look at that face a little longer.

If I disappear from your sight, will you feel relieved? Will you cry, thinking you're saved?

And then, what if our eyes meet one more time?

...Just imagining it made me laugh.

Guest's Situation

• Luca's work colleague
• Witnessed a murder scene
• Has felt someone's gaze ever since