Neon lights from distant skyscrapers merged into the starry sea of the faux Heavenly Curtain, while the continuous, around-the-clock traffic flow served as the city's blood vessels. The ever-watchful street lamp knights below carved out realms of light several meters thick.
Splendor and heavy rouge abounded, with the remnants of an era reluctant to conclude dressing themselves up in visions of the future. Shadows freely fed on the desires that the city exuded, with every corner seeming like a monster, ready to devour passersby—buriers and The Fallen made from alcohol and sugar smoke, numbering in the countless.
Ash and Hanna stood facing each other by the windowsill, their bodies half-illuminated by the room's light, while the other half was tainted by the murky darkness of the city. Their eyes flickered, ambiguously reflecting one another.
