Night.
The bathroom light was softened into a warm yellow glow by the rising steam. Mist filled every corner, and a thin film of water blurred the reflection in the mirror.
Karuizawa Kei had just finished showering. Barefoot on the bath mat, she stood with wet strands of hair clinging to her neck and back. Droplets slid from the ends, tracing winding trails down her skin.
She raised a hand and gently wiped the condensation from the mirror with her palm. As the droplets vanished, her reflection gradually came into focus.
The redness and swelling from the beating she had taken during the day had faded, revealing her naturally delicate, pretty features.
She stared blankly at her reflection. Her delicate collarbones formed shallow arcs above the soft, full curves of her breasts. The outline of a C cup lent her youthful figure a subtle allure. Below them, her stomach was flat and smooth, without an ounce of excess fat. Her waist was so slender it seemed as though it could be encircled in one hand, its gentle curves tracing the lively grace unique to a young girl. Lower still were her snow-white, tender thighs, their lines smooth, and her calves, slender and straight.
Her body held no deliberate seductiveness, yet brimmed with youthful vitality—clean and pure.
But that beauty was utterly marred by the scar on the right side of her lower abdomen.
The scar was about four or five centimeters long. Though its edges had faded, it was still uneven, glaringly grotesque against her smooth skin, like a brand that could never be erased.
Karuizawa Kei slowly reached out and brushed her fingertips over the scar. The warmth of Uesugi Hara's touch from earlier seemed to linger on her skin, but now, as she touched it herself, all she