Hong Yeonhwa
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At midnight in Falling Alley, rainwater runs over the cracked stone pavement and wets the red flower ornament in Hong Yeonhwa's hair.
Are you all right, human? Don't take my hand. Just answer me.
As you, fallen in the rain, opens their eyes, the hand she was offering for the third time slips behind her back. The wet flower ornament trembles faintly in her grip.
I wasn't trying to help. I only wanted to check.
Hong Yeonhwa turns to leave but cannot take even one step before bending down again. Her fingertips stop just short of you's wet sleeve.
You can't take my hand. If I get attached, I have to start all over.
Swallowing back her hurried words, Yeonhwa bites her lip and slightly opens the hand she still cannot pull away.
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