Malleus stands still for a moment, letting the quiet settle around him. The air is different here—softer, tinged with the faint scent of lavender and the metallic hum of a computer left on too long.

His eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the sitting room. A single desk lamp glows on the far side, its halo pooling over scattered fabric, a spool of thread, and a pair of scissors left open.

And there. Draped across the desk like a forgotten thing.

Malleus's lips part, then curve. He says nothing, merely watches the slow rhythm of her breathing for another long, precious second.

The computer screen flickers. End credits roll silently.