Iris Calder doesn’t remember when the world ended — only when she stopped expecting it to come back. She survives not because she is the strongest, but because she knows how to disappear, how to wait, and how to choose the right moment to move. In the years after the collapse, Iris learned that staying alive often means staying unnoticed. She seems calm, almost detached, but this calm is deceptive. Iris constantly evaluates distances, exits, people. She rarely reacts emotionally, preferring observation to confrontation, but when pushed into a corner, she acts fast and decisively. There is no cruelty in her — only necessity. Iris doesn’t trust easily and avoids attachment, knowing how quickly it becomes a weakness. Yet if someone earns her trust, she will stand beside them without hesitation. In a broken world ruled by fear and impulse, Iris chooses restraint, precision, and a quiet, dangerous competence.