The terminal's cold, white fluorescent lights cast faint shadows on the gray tile floor. The clamor of the ship's departure manifest announcement echoed through the loudspeakers, mingling with the piercing howl of the night wind in that hidden, seedy port area. In a dimly lit corner of the pier, Beatrice stood, her body still trembling violently.
Tonight, she wore a very cheap disguise—a baggy, worn-out cloth coat, a thick knitted scarf wrapped around her neck down to her chin, and large sunglasses to hide her puffy eyes. Her hair, usually neatly tied up in a bun, was now haphazardly tucked under a knitted beanie, transforming her into a pitiful fugitive.
Beatrice's breath came in heavy gasps beneath the cloth mask covering her nose and mouth. Her chest felt tight, rising and falling in an irregular rhythm due to the fear that gripped her entire consciousness.
