The door creaked open just slightly, no footsteps sounded, and no breath was wasted.
The clone moved silently across the darkened room, the silver vial still clutched in her fingers like something sacred. The other girls lay curled in their own corners — a few murmurs, a faint twitch of a tail, the rise and fall of steady sleep.
But Kumiko slept alone, her pale hair pooled across the pillow, brows faintly furrowed even now. Her breathing was soft… but uneven.
The clone knelt beside the bed.
She opened the vial without ceremony, then reached out and gently tilted the main body's chin with two fingers. Her touch was perfect — exact — like it always was.
Kumiko swallowed instinctively. Even half-asleep, her body trusted her own hands.
The clone gave her the last of the potion, drop by drop.
When it was done, she sat still beside the bed for a long moment.
She looked down at Kumiko — the real one. The one dreaming behind her walls, holding her fears tight inside.
