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... oad hand.

“Especially after this morning.”

Louise smiled awkwardly as Simon carefully opened the box. Inside was a bottle of black ink, as pitch dark as Simon’s own hair.

“It’s just plain ink.”

Simon held up the bottle in the air to inspect it. The setting red sun disappeared behind the bottle as the blackness smothered the light.

“…It’s not special.”

Louise made sure to stress her point. Ink given as a gift was usually imbued with some novel magical property. ...

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With many personalities in one body, each having a different relationship with different people, a system taking them further and further away from their humanity, and an increasingly hostile world where humans kill each other while monsters slaughter them, could the situation be worse?

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