In the polished void of a salon mirror, a single eye stares back, wide with a terror it cannot name. But just beyond her focus, another mouth—her mouth—curls into a silent, grotesque smile, the skin pulled tight against phantom stitches. A whisper, thin as a razor's edge, begins to unspool from the silence. This is the world of Aiko Tanaka, a world built on the fragile promise of perfection, wh...
