"Is this me?" Carney touched her face with her hand, it was smooth, soft and warm.

A face that does not belong to her is vaguely reflected on the wine glass, at least in her opinion, it is not her.

"This is you," Nilu affirmed, "It's what you were when you were alive, and now you can taste the taste of wine."

Carney looked at the figure on the wall of the cup, the familiar yet unfamiliar face made her a little flustered, and she remembered the last time Ringer carried her back home.

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