Chitose Saegusa __exclusive__

And so, for six years, Chitose had led a double life. By day, the perfect daughter, her hair lacquered, her voice a gentle murmur. By night, or on stolen afternoons, she became a different creature, her hands stained with charcoal and oil, her clothes smelling of turpentine and Ren's cheap cigarettes. Ren was the only person who called her "Chii-chan" and told her she had "the eye of a hungry stray dog—useful."

That night, she went to Ren's studio. He was working on a massive, angry canvas of a cormorant fishing with a ring around its throat—a symbol of captive skill. She told him everything. The engagement. The painting. The suffocation. Chitose Saegusa