Pain is sometimes a source of clarity, but what [Drowning · Abyss Hair] brings is "trance." When this artifact, composed of thousands of ultra-thin suede leather strands, descends, it is not striking; it is "occupying." Every brush is an overloaded reboot of the skin's sensory nerves.
Clinical observations show that when the subject is completely covered by the "Abyss Hair," they quickly enter a state known as "Deep Sea Dormancy." Why do they not call for help? Because when thousands of contact points simultaneously transmit that dense, heavy, and cold pressure, the brain mistakenly believes it has returned to the womb. Air becomes redundant; the self becomes a burden. Under this absolute encapsulation, you are no longer an independent human; you are a piece of wasteland drifting in the deep sea.
This is the highest form of deprivation: it strips away all your perception of the "outside world." In that pitch-black forest of leather, the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat—pounding like a drum, yet growing more distant. You refuse to cry out because you are indulging in this sacred drowning.