The gun went off, and the man’s head in front of me exploded in blood and flesh flying in every direction, but I couldn’t care less about those things. My eyes focused on Rara, as I watched, her shaking hands drop the gun almost immediately after, as if the weapon was going to burn a hole in her hand.

Her doll-like features were a mask of terror and shock. My little mouse had never shot someone before, and just to save me, she killed someone. The guilt, the shame, it was all but painted onto her face. She hated she saved me, yet she hated how not saving me would...