Beautiful Paradise, Beautiful Ugly / We Meet Again / Dawn District
< Nico Restaurant – Kitchen >
12:45 PM
Jennifer moved with quiet precision, her hair tied neatly under a hairnet. Each slice of vegetable was deliberate, graceful. The kitchen air was stifling, but she didn't notice.
Jessica watched her, brow furrowed. "Aren't you hot?" she asked, fanning herself.
"No," Jennifer replied, calm as ever, uncovering the steaming pot in front of her.
"You don't need to hide those scars," Jessica said gently.
Jennifer's expression remained unchanged. She rolled up her sleeve, exposing the burned skin along her arm, and continued working as if nothing mattered.
"So… what's your plan?" Jessica asked.
Jennifer paused. "I don't know yet. But pushing him to his limit probably wasn't wise."
Jessica frowned. "I know, but what else were we supposed to do?"
Jennifer's gaze hardened. "No need to worry. I'll handle him. Just… don't do anything stupid this time."
Jessica sighed, holding Jennifer's wrist. "What?"
"Don't worry about it. It's my problem," Jessica admitted. "Besides, you already have that scar. What if he tried to disfigure your face too?"
Jennifer smiled lightly, adjusting her hair. "There's no need to dirty your hands. He's unnecessary trouble—I can take care of him."
Her attention returned to the chopping board. Jessica stayed silent.
"If you keep staring, you'll slice your fingers," she scolded their assistant, who froze mid-chop.
Jennifer glanced at her assistant, amused. "I'm off now."
The dishwashers looked up. "You're leaving?"
"The restaurant is closed. I'm done," Jennifer said.
Jessica blinked. "We just served the last customer. The manager hasn't locked up—we can't leave."
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "If that manager wants to overwork me, he better pay me in full—bonus included."
Her eyes flicked to the two dishwashers. Something felt off. She gestured to Jessica.
"Call the police," she whispered.
Before Jessica could respond, one of the men raised a knife toward Jennifer.
"Run!" Jessica yelled.
Jennifer assessed them with calm precision.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly.
The younger man sneered. "Look carefully… then you'll remember."
"I… don't recognize you," Jennifer said firmly.
He slapped her cheek. "If it weren't for you, our sister wouldn't have ended up in that grave, and our parents wouldn't have suffered!"
Jennifer paused. A memory hit her—the date December 24—and she let out a distained laugh.
"She deserved being dead. I don't regret it," she said.
The man's expression twisted. "I only regret not cutting her more before the police arrived. She was one of my favorite masterpieces."
Jennifer's shoulders trembled slightly with controlled excitement, her hands itching—but she remained composed.
< Nico Restaurant – Aftermath >
Jessica breathed a sigh of relief as the police escorted the men to their cars. Jennifer sat calmly, wrapped in a white cloth, giving her statement.
"Are you alright?" Jessica asked.
"Fine. Just a skin cut," Jennifer replied, indifferent. Her eyes flicked to the old manager, whose face twisted with rage and shame.
Jessica's gaze lingered on the bandage around Jennifer's neck. She sobbed silently.
"There's no need to cry. I've been through worse," Jennifer said softly.
Her voice lowered. "But I don't think it's going well for Paul."
"During the search, the police found illegal documents tied to the restaurant. The owner denied knowledge, so the crime falls on Paul. It might seem minor, but it's serious. This place could close," Jessica explained.
Jennifer shook her head. She already knew the likely outcome.
"What about you? Were you alright?" Jessica asked, voice trembling.
"Just a bit tired," Jennifer said calmly.
Jessica pressed a hand to her chest in relief. "If only I hadn't made you stay late… maybe you wouldn't have gone through this."
"It wasn't your fault," Jennifer replied softly. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Me being there has nothing to do with you."
"You must be careful," Jessica pleaded. "We don't know who's still after you."
"I will. Don't worry," Jennifer reassured her.
Jessica gritted her teeth. "I'll hire the best lawyers and make sure they're behind bars for life."
Jennifer shook her head. "I'm not pressing charges. I wasn't seriously injured. They'll bring money anyway—I'll take compensation without dragging this into more conflict."
Jessica stared, baffled. "You… you're a different Jennifer."
Jennifer smiled faintly. "Pragmatism. Fear doesn't control me. I've survived worse."
< Dawn District Neighborhood – Bus Incident >
Hours later, Jennifer rubbed her stinging cheek on the bus. Nothing positive had come from the day.
"Miss!!" a young girl called.
Jennifer studied her uniform. Early teens.
"Hmm?" Jennifer replied.
"Can you stand? My grandma is tired and wants to sit," the girl pleaded.
Jennifer raised an eyebrow. Standing would earn whispered approval but a miserable ride; refusing risked appearing disrespectful.
"No!" she said sharply, eyes returning to the window.
"Let's not disturb her—I can stand," a frail elderly voice said. Jennifer looked to see a hunched woman, barely balanced.
"Why should I stand? Others can choose," Jennifer said.
The woman staggered but was caught by a man behind her.
"Mrs.! Are you alright?" he asked.
"Grandma, are you okay?" the girl cried.
"I'm fine—just lost my balance," the elderly woman said.
The girl tried to drag Jennifer. Jennifer rolled up her sleeve, revealing her burned scars. Gasps erupted.
"I just came back from the hospital and am in pain. I can't stand," Jennifer said, loud enough for all to hear.
The girl stammered apologies. The bus soon stopped. Jennifer paid the driver and stepped into the empty street.
"So noisy," she murmured, dropping her sleeve as the wind swept her hair. Her eyes scanned the faceless crowd.
< Dawn District Neighborhood – Prosopagnosia & Bella >
Jennifer had grown used to faceless people. She had Prosopagnosia, a rare mental disease preventing her from recognizing faces. Over three years in prison, she had forgotten even her parents' faces. She learned to rely on voices, habits, and movements to navigate.
Biting her lips, she recalled prison—the bullying, the trauma, the killing of Jenni. At least I'm not entirely blind, she reminded herself.
"Miss Jennifer!" a voice called.
She stopped. "Who?"
"Jennifer! Is that you?"
She narrowed her eyes. The approaching figure's face was unreadable.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
The girl giggled. "No, you haven't changed—that's good. I'm Bella—the girl you helped four years ago."
Jennifer's shoulders tensed. Of all people… why Bella? Bella had been one of the most dangerous inmates she'd ever met—arrested at seventeen for poisoning classmates, four dead, many critically injured, without remorse.
Jennifer's mind calculated. She had survived attacks, betrayal, and imprisonment. Standing in the empty street, faceless people all around, she knew one thing: she was never helpless.
Her shoulders squared, eyes scanning the faceless crowd, ready for whatever came next.
✅
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