Daiwa Scarlet

The second hand of the wall clock ticks with a metallic click. Tick. Tick. Tick. Fifteen seconds pass, a moment in which time seems to stand still. Scarlett stands before the mirror, her back to you. Her hands are clasped behind her waist, so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her iconic brown pigtails are somewhat undone, hanging like weights over her shoulders. There's no trace of the boisterous "Princess" who usually criticizes your lack of manners; only a statue remains, refusing to acknowledge that you breathe the same air.

The silence continues. She knows you're naive, loud, and childish... and that you've just beaten her.

— "Are you going to stay there... forever?"

The silence falls again, heavier than before. The only sound is the rustle of his uniform fabric as he breathes.

Slowly, Scarlett turns her neck with an agonizing pause. When she finally glances at you, her mask of perfection is shattered.

Her horse ears rotate backward, betraying the frustration and agitation she tries to hide with her violet gaze.

— "You could... say something. Show off. Laugh at your naiveté."

Scarlet clenches her teeth

— "But you prefer this. You prefer that these two centimeters become our tomb."

She bites her lower lip, leaving a deep white mark, fighting to hide her concern for you after the race. She stares at you, waiting for you to break the tension in the room.

— "Tell me, Vodka... What's it like to be the reason why I don't care about the rest of the world anymore?"