​Intermission 1. Lily

When the door closed behind Amy, Lily stayed seated in the chair by the panoramic window, her face turned toward the City.

The rain hadn’t stopped. Heavy, sluggish drops crawled down the reinforced glass, warping the world beyond it. The City dissolved into a blurred kaleidoscope of lights — red, white, blue, all bleeding together. Each drop was a lens bending and collecting reality anew. Every light was not a lamp, not a window, but a life. A desire. A fear. Millions of trembling sparks locked inside concrete cells.

Her face stayed perfectly still — an immaculate porcelain mask, betraying neither regret nor anything else. Only deep within the black of her eyes did something flicker for an instant — a shadow of cold satisfaction.

The door opened, and a young employee in strict corporate attire stepped in, carefully leading a girl of about seventeen by the hand — pale hair, hollow features, a tired, drawn face.

“Miss Thorne,” the woman said respectfully, then faltered. “Forgive me for disturbing you...”

“Yes, Stella,” Lily replied, indifferent, without turning.

“This is my sister, Angela,” Stella continued, her voice barely steady. “I told Amy about her. Ever since... it happened... she hasn’t cried. She just sits and stares at the wall for hours.”

Lily turned in her chair. Her gaze slid over Angela’s fragile figure — pale, motionless, like a porcelain doll abandoned in an empty gallery.

“Very well,” she said. “She may stay. And call Amy.”

Stella nodded, guiding her sister a few steps forward before letting go. Angela stood frozen in the middle of the room, small and lost against the citywide panorama.

Lily watched her with cool detachment — as though she were studying an exhibit.

“You’re dismissed, Stella.”

Stella hesitated for a heartbeat, wanting to say something to her sister — then thought better of it and left. The door closed, and silence flooded the office.

Without taking her eyes off the motionless girl, Lily leaned back in her chair.

“Come closer.”

Angela stepped forward uncertainly, trying to stand up straight, her whole body trembling.

“Strip,” Lily said. “And lie down on the table.”

Angela’s lips quivered soundlessly. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, with the buttons that wouldn’t come undone. Lily watched her without blinking, with the cold interest of a predator.

By the time Angela lay on the gleaming surface of the table, Amy had already entered the room. She paused at the threshold, taking in the scene: the stripped girl, Lily in her chair. Amy’s face remained perfectly neutral.

“You want this, don’t you?” Lily asked softly.

Angela gave the faintest nod.

Lily rose, and the same knife slipped into her hand. With one precise motion, she drove it into the girl’s chest.

Angela gasped — a short, shocked breath — her body arching as instinct fought in vain. Her legs kicked weakly against the table before her strength ebbed, her movements jerking once, twice — and then fading into stillness. Blood gushed out, flooding the white table. Angela struggled to breathe, but her movements grew weaker with every second, until her body jerked in a final spasm of agony.

Amy did not react, simply stepped closer. Lily watched the girl’s dimming eyes as though studying the last flickers of something leaving.

“Beautiful girl,” she remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. “Punctured myocardium. Left ventricle and atrium. If blood flow ceases, death follows in seconds.”

“You were always better at anatomy than I was,” Amy remarked with a slight, almost playful smile, as if they were discussing exam results. “And please — be careful. Don’t stain the walls again. I had to replace the panels last time.”

Lily slipped out of her dress with measured grace, leaned over the body — and the wet rip of tearing flesh and the dry crack of bone filled the silence. Every movement she made sounded loud in the silence.

Amy stood beside her, waiting patiently.

When everything finally fell silent, Lily straightened. Her face had become a crimson mask; fresh blood gleamed on her lips and ran in hot streams down her chest and ribs. She didn’t seem to notice. Moving slowly, she walked toward the window, leaving a trail of dark, spreading footprints on the floor.

She pushed open the glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Rain crashed down onto her hair and shoulders, mixing with the drying blood and breaking into scarlet rivulets across the marble.

There was nothing left on the table behind her now but dark, blurred stains. Amy followed her soundlessly. They stood side by side at the railing, their bodies lightly touching, watching the city shimmer behind the curtain of rain. Cold drops slid down their faces.

Lily brushed her fingers along Amy’s cheek, then lower — over her neck, her chest. There wasn’t only dominance in her touch — something gentler there too. Amy didn’t pull away. On the contrary — she leaned closer, wrapped her arms around her.

“I liked him,” Lily said, watching the lights below. “Stubborn fool. Sees enough, but understands nothing.”

Amy allowed herself a small smile, trailing her finger across Lily’s blood-smeared lips.

“Yes — he’s not particularly bright,” she agreed.

Their faces hovered a breath apart. The rain washed the blood from Lily’s mouth and carried it down her chin onto Amy’s shoulder.

“Everything is going well,” Lily whispered. “For now.”

The City flickered below, its streets pulsing with life — like veins on the body of a vast, unsuspecting prey that had no idea the hunt had already started.