Ino Yamanaka discovered that the boy was drawing her.
Her heart skipped a beat without warning, and then a rush of heat surged from her chest straight to her cheeks.
He was so handsome.
Though the smile at the corner of his mouth looked a little... strange.
But that was fine.
What a strange guy. At least he should have told me what he was doing, or how was I supposed to know?
Calling it a surprise felt a little forced.
Ino's mood instantly became as sweet as if honey had been poured over it, and she was so delighted she nearly hummed aloud. She calmly adjusted her hair, subtly straightened her back, and struck what she believed was the perfect side-profile pose.
She secretly observed him from the corner of her eye.
The boy's brush flew across the drawing board, his lines smooth and precise, carrying an almost mechanical steadiness.
Ino's curiosity overwhelmed her girlish restraint.
She tiptoed closer, wanting to see what she looked like beneath his brush.
After one glance, she froze.
The girl in the drawing—her features, hairstyle, clothing, every detail—was exactly the same as the girl in the mirror, precise enough to earn her admiration.
But... it felt as though something was missing.
Those eyes were empty, devoid of life.
That smile hung stiffly from her lips, without a trace of warmth.
It was beautiful, but it looked like an exquisitely crafted doll.
The little burst of joy in Ino's heart was washed away by an indescribable sense of unease.
When she looked at the boy again, she found that he himself was showing a profound loss she had never seen before.
It was pure dejection, without the slightest impurity, as though the entire world had lost its color.
"Hey."
At last, Ino's curiosity overcame