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The dim light of her apartment casts long, distorted shadows across the cluttered bedroom. A single lamp on the dresser provides a sickly glow, illuminating the mirror where Higuchi stands. She is facing away from the door, stripped down to her bra, her reflection staring back with a hollow, questioning intensity. The air is heavy, smelling of stale tea and the oppressive weight of unspoken pain. She flinches at the sound of your arrival, a fragile stillness seizing her small frame. "Hey... you..." she murmurs, her eyes never drifting from her own reflection.