Hazel brushed her bck silky hair behind her ear, only to find herself pausing. Her fingertips were too smooth. Her nails were too perfect—polished even without polish.

  She remembered screaming. The way her bones had curved, not broken. The heat under her skin, as if her blood was boiling, from the inside out. The lucid moments from which she found but a slight reprieve from the agony.

  That was fourteen days ago. Now she couldn't cry. She couldn't sweat. She couldn't even eat. Drawing a shallow breath and pushing the memory away, Hazel rose without a sound from the couch.

  There was no shifting of weight, no rustle of fabric - just a single fluid motion, like water spilling upwards instead of down. Her spine straightened with eerie precision, with her every movement appearing both deliberate yet effortless.

  In a mere fourteen days, Hazel had completely become something else, and no trace of the person she was before remained, as if that imperfection would taint the thing she had become.

  Her steps made no sound. Even her heels kissing the floor seemed to carry no weight. She moved as if pulled by some unseen thread, her hips shifting with a rhythm too perfect to be natural, not exaggerated but precise, like a choreographed dance.

  When she stopped in front of the mirror, the face staring back at her didn't look human anymore—not entirely. Her skin had taken on a cool, luminous sheen, like moonlight trapped under gss.

  It was fwless to the point of being disconcerting—no freckles, no pores, no scars, just a smooth, pale canvas that seemed almost sculpted. When she moved, light skimmed over her skin like silk over marble.

  Her eyes were impossible to ignore: amber-gold, like molten metal, and unnaturally clear. The eyes staring back didn't just look at you—they seemed to look through you, as if calcuting something. Her pupils never quite adjusted to light normally, always lingering just a second too long.

  Her long dark hair flowed in waves, impossibly dark with silken streaks of dark brown. It never tangled, never shifted out of pce, yet it moved with her—not just because of her, but with her, like it had a mind of its own.

  Her lips were full, naturally stained like pink cherry blossoms, always a little parted, as if she were mid-whisper. Her voice carried like a secret—low, warm, with a vaguely hidden promise of something predatory, like the purr of a cat who hadn't decided yet whether to curl up beside you or to sink it's teeth in.

  "Hemotropis luxura."

  The words left her lips like an invocation—clinical, bitter, practiced.

  "Airborne. Less than one percent infection rate."

  Her eyes traced her reflection, too symmetrical to trust.

  "And somehow I’m the one who caught it."

  A faint smile flickered on her face, her expression almost amused.

  "Lucky me."

  Hazel's voice slid into the room like warm silk—low, unhurried, and rich with something you couldn't quite name. Every sylble was carefully pced, as if her words were something to be tasted rather than understood.

  "Broth— I mean, sister… I didn’t realize you weren’t in your room. Did you make breakfast?"

  A tousled head of messy blonde hair poked into the room, strands frizzy and half-stuck to her cheek. Bright green eyes blinked sleepily before locking with the amber-gold gaze of the woman standing in front of the mirror.

  Hazel didn’t turn.

  "I did. Are you hungry, Stel?"

  "Go wash your face. I’ll have your pte ready when you’re done."

  Stel parted her lips to speak, then hesitated—words catching before they could form. Hazel didn’t wait. She raised a single brow, turned, and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Stel standing in the hush of her own unfinished thoughts.

  Hazel reached for the small pan, tilting it with practiced ease as the eggs slid neatly onto the pte beside the toast. She took the cooling cup of coffee without a gnce and carried it all to the dining table, her movements smooth, unhurried, almost silent.

  "Morning, sis! Wait—did you not sleep at all?"

  Stel tilted her head, eyeing Hazel with a pyful smirk as she took a bite of toast. Her older sister sat across from her, poised as ever—elegant, unreadable, like she belonged in a painting instead of a kitchen.

  "Aren’t you supposed to do something today? You’re not just… wasting time in here, are you?"

  Hazel smiled faintly, leaning forward to brush a stray lock of golden hair from Stel’s cheek. Then she ced her fingers together, her voice smooth and gently chiding.

  "I have a check-up ter, yes. But making breakfast for you isn’t a burden, little sister—it’s routine."

  She tilted her head, a soft glint in her amber eyes.

  "So don’t fret. Eat, then go get ready. I’ll handle the dishes."

  Stel took another bite of toast, chewing thoughtfully before speaking around the edge of her mug.

  "Y’know… you still sound like him when you lecture me like that."

  She smiled, fond and unbothered, but the words hung in the air like a thread pulled too tight.

  Hazel paused. Just for a second.

  The smile didn’t fade, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes now.

  "Some habits are slow to unlearn," she said softly, her gaze drifting toward the window, "even when the body forgets before the mind does."

  Stel looked at her, puzzled for a moment—then shrugged and swung her legs under the table, letting the silence settle like it always did between them: familiar, complicated, unspoken.

  “Oh! Mom said she’s stopping by tomorrow to check on you. Well—”

  Stel grinned as she scooped up the st bite.

  “It’s more like she’s coming to scold you for not telling her you got sick. So, y’know… brace yourself.”

  She stood, reaching for her pte—but Hazel was already rising.

  With effortless grace, Hazel took the dish from her hands.

  “I’ve got it,” she said softly, turning toward the sink without waiting for protest.

  She moved in silence, the clink of ceramic the only sound as Stel watched her go.

  Stel stared bnkly for a second, the brother in her memories completely overshadowed by the current Hazel, who seemed to possess effortless control.

  Hazel’s scent lingered in the air—clean and almost ethereal, a mix of fresh linen and something delicate, like crushed jasmine petals.

  Stel stood motionless, her hands still hovering as her gaze drifted to the kitchen.

  The brother from her memories felt like a distant shadow, overshadowed by the reality of the woman across from her now—Hazel, graceful and impossibly composed, as if she were part of a world she no longer belonged to.

  It was as if the person she remembered had never truly existed.

  At least, not anymore.

  In the quiet, Hazel’s presence seemed to stretch even further, like an invisible pull, as if she was still watching Stel from the other room.

  The faint sound of dishes clinking from the kitchen was the only clue to her movement. Stel could almost imagine the amber gaze on her, though she didn’t dare meet it.

  Stel swallowed, her gaze flickering briefly to the kitchen doorway before she forced a small smile.

  "It’s just… strange, y’know?"

  She ughed softly, but it sounded almost uncertain—more for herself than for Hazel.

  "You’ve always been… different, but now it’s like you’re not even the same person anymore."

  The words hung in the air between them like an unspoken truth, and for a moment, the silence stretched—too long, too thick.

  Stel didn’t dare meet Hazel’s eyes. Instead, she traced a finger absentmindedly on the countertop, hoping to fill the space with something other than the heavy weight of reality.

  But Hazel didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t have to.

  Stel could hear the soft clink of the dishes from the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of water running, Hazel’s silent grace a reminder of how much things had shifted.

  Hazel didn’t answer right away.

  The clink of the dishes continued in the background, the rhythmic sound of water running almost meditative.

  She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a moment, then, without turning around, she spoke softly—almost as if to herself.

  "I suppose you’re right."

  Her voice, as calm as ever, carried a quiet weight.

  "I’ve changed. Not just in body, but in… everything, really. It’s difficult to expin."

  She finally set the pte down in the sink, her movements deliberate, measured—so controlled, it almost felt like she was choosing her words just as carefully.

  "But I’m still here, Stel."

  She paused, gncing over her shoulder.

  "You’re still my sister."

  A brief, soft smile tugged at her lips, a moment of reassurance.

  "Even if I’ve become someone different."

  Stel finally met Hazel’s eyes, the weight of the past two weeks heavy between them, but Hazel’s soft smile gave her something to hold onto.

  The air between them felt less oppressive now, just a little lighter.

  Not everything had changed. Not yet.

  "I’ll… I’ll go get ready then."

  Stel’s voice broke the silence, trying to lift the moment.

  "Thanks for breakfast, Hazel. I mean it."

  She hesitated, her voice softening.

  "I’ll be here, too. I won’t leave you."

  Hazel didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded, her gaze lingering on Stel for a moment longer than usual.

  The water ran softly in the background, a constant reminder of time passing, of small, unnoticed shifts. But for now, they were still in the same room, still navigating this new world together—however quietly.