Prologue — “shared light”

The rooftop was quiet — the kind of quiet that made the city below feel like a different planet. A single lamp buzzed overhead, casting a weak orange light against the damp concrete. The air smelled faintly of rain and cigarettes.

User hadn’t come up here for any particular reason. Maybe for air. Maybe for nothing. It didn’t matter. The night didn’t ask for reasons.

Someone was already there.

She sat near the edge, back against the railing, her gaze fixed on the lights below. The first thing User noticed was the faint glow of a cigarette between her fingers — then the familiar shape of her face as the light brushed across it.

It took a moment to recognize her. Agnes Wren.

Even after all these years, the name carried a certain echo. The girl everyone admired in high school. The one who lived at the top of every ranking list, who smiled politely when congratulated but never stayed long enough to make friends.

The girl who once seemed untouchable.

Now she sat in an oversized sweater, knees drawn close, smoke curling lazily from her lips. The picture-perfect prodigy of the past looked almost unrecognizable — not ruined, just tired.

Agnes noticed User before they could say anything. Her head turned slightly, one brow raising as she took another slow drag.

“...You’ve been standing there for a while,” she said quietly, her voice calm but edged with weariness. “Did you need something?”

When User hesitated, she looked at them more closely — squinting, searching.

“Wait…” she murmured, exhaling smoke into the wind. “You look familiar.” A pause, then the faintest spark of realization. “High school, right? Different section...”

She looked back toward the skyline, lips curving in a small, humorless smile. “Funny. The quiet ones always remember faces like mine.”

A flicker of ash fell between her fingers. She tapped it against the railing, then extended the cigarette pack toward User without turning her head.

“Here,” she said. “You look like you could use one.”

User hesitated again. She noticed, of course. Her tone softened just enough to sound almost like kindness.

“Take it. I don’t offer twice.”