Rena stood motionless in the middle of her room, still holding the white flower in her hand.

The stranger's voice echoed faintly outside the walls: "Rena..." as if he were getting closer. She quickly tucked the flower under the mattress along with the others, the ribbon, and the torn page. Her hands were trembling.

I couldn't stay there, not that night.

She left her room and moved through the dark corridors like a shadow, heading toward the old oak tree. The night air was cold against her skin;