He took his time under the boiling water, letting it soak into every inch of his body, washing away not just the grime but the exhaustion and the weight of everything that had built up inside him.
Only when he felt completely renewed did he shut off the water and step out, leaving footprints on the misted tiles behind him.
He stood in front of the mirror, wiping a streak through the fogged glass, and met his own gaze.
"I'm really becoming something, aren't I?"
The reflection that stared back no longer fully belonged to a human.
His face was still youthful, messy black hair clinging to his forehead, damp with steam. But his eyes had changed. The pupils were pitch-black, so deep and vast they looked bottomless. Within them, subtle threads of starlight swirled and shifted, as if constellations were drifting behind a veil of darkness. Not glowing—but alive.
