I pulled up to the funeral home, the place looking so silent and somber it made my chest tighten. I transformed my motorcycle back into a bracelet with a quick pulse of mana, tucking it away, but when I tried to step forward, my feet just wouldn't move. It felt wrong, like I didn't belong there after everything that had gone down. So, I hung back, deciding to just watch from a distance under a nearby tree, telling myself I'd head in once my heart stopped racing.
My stomach growled, pulling me out of my thoughts, and that's when I remembered the sandwich in my expansion pouch—the pepperoni grilled cheese I'd picked up earlier. I was about to unwrap it when it hit me: this used to be Raphael's favorite. He'd always bug me to bring one when I visited, complaining about the bland hospital food. The memory stung, so I set it aside and just cracked open the bottle of Pocari Sweat, taking a long sip to settle the knot in my throat.
