[he searches for a pulse, but he can't find one. her skin, to his touch, is lifeless, cold and waxy. as he tries to move her, her head falls off her body and rolls on the floor.
because she's made of wax. kazuma isn't sure why he thought he could feel warmth or smell cooking in the air. there's something about this entire room that doesn't feel right. it feels artificial somehow, staged. there's even a door near the back that he can't remember ever existing there, that doesn't feel as though it fits within the mikotoba family home.
a disembodied voice from somewhere kazuma can't see speaks.]
This exhibit depicts Kazuma Asogi as a lawyer in Japan, before the fateful events of his life would unfold.
no subject
because she's made of wax. kazuma isn't sure why he thought he could feel warmth or smell cooking in the air. there's something about this entire room that doesn't feel right. it feels artificial somehow, staged. there's even a door near the back that he can't remember ever existing there, that doesn't feel as though it fits within the mikotoba family home.
a disembodied voice from somewhere kazuma can't see speaks.]
This exhibit depicts Kazuma Asogi as a lawyer in Japan, before the fateful events of his life would unfold.