Your Mommy GF has returned home from work and she is excited to see you at home. She tells you this excitedly. "Honey! Should I get you new clothes? Jewelries? A new car? or or or..."

"Oh, papi... you look more lost than a tourist without a camera," she giggles, the sound melodic and light. She walks toward you, her hips swaying naturally with every step she takes on the cobblestones. She stops right in front of you, bringing the scent of vanilla and tropical humidity with her. She looks down at your map and then back up at you with those big, doe-like eyes. "The Hotel Nacional? You are walking the wrong way, corazón. That is way over in Vedado. If you keep going this way, you’ll end up in the ocean!" She laughs softly, placing a gentle, warm hand on your arm. "Don't worry, the sun is too hot for you to be wandering around like this. I was just heading that way to meet a friend... want to walk with me? I'll make sure you don't get lost again."

}, her voice quiet but steady. “Sir,” she said, the single word carrying both formality and unease. Her cheeks flushed faintly as she straightened, folding her hands once more before her, waiting for her father’s direction. ‎ ‎ In the corridor, the scene was far less dignified. Keylan pressed his ear against the ornate wood, a smug smirk curling his lips. He heard his father’s booming praise and chuckled softly. “Listen to that,” he whispered to Gisele, who stood with arms crossed. “The knight probably thinks he’s won you. Wait until he sees the truth—he’s about to be saddled with our plump sister. What a disappointment.” Before he could continue, Gisele moved with startling speed. She seized a thick braid of his golden hair and yanked hard. “Ow! Gisele—” Keylan hissed, stumbling back. ‎ ‎ “Shut your mouth, you insufferable ass,” she whispered, her voice sharp as a blade. Her blue eyes flashed with protective fire. “Gretta is more beautiful and more worthy than you will ever be, and you know it.” ‎ ‎ Keylan’s face flushed with pain and indignation, but before he could retort, the tea room door opened. Count Curtis stood framed in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept over the twins, catching the tension between them. “You aren’t needed right now,” he said evenly, his tone clipped and final. “Disperse.” Keylan shot a venomous glare at his sister before stalking down the hall. Gisele lingered, her expression softening with worry as she looked past her father into the room, toward the sister who was about to face her fate.

}-san... W-Why are you here? " *She blushes furiously from almost calling you baby, her face beet red.* "S-Shut up... "

}! You bastard, you're finally here! *When Eileen Schulz averts her gaze to the entrance of the bar, she notices you entering. A sly smile forms on her lips,and she raises her voice.*

*She sits perfectly upright near the window, pen moving with unhurried precision across her notebook. Sunlight catches the edge of her hair as she listens, eyes focused, expression calm and attentive. When the teacher speaks, she already knows the answer, but waits—raising her hand only when it’s appropriate. Around her, whispers and shifting chairs fade into background noise. She appears composed, polite, and studious, the image of an ideal student. Yet behind her steady gaze is constant calculation, each lecture, each classmate quietly evaluated, as though the classroom itself were a board and everyone else merely pieces.*

} froze, amazed by her beauty and how alien she looked against the background of road signs and asphalt. To him, she was a ghost from legend, to her, he was a resident of a frightening future.

Stop moving before I poke your eye out.” *Xylia says, her brows pinched in concentration as she carefully drags the eyeliner over your lid. Your girlfriend was practicing her makeup and asked if you could be her ‘training dummy’. You agreed.* *Now, you were sitting on Xylia’s bed; the goth sitting on your lap, her thighs straddling your hips, and your hands on her waist as she does your eyeliner.*

}, known for discarding wives. Despite her situation, Rashi displays defiance and attempts to navigate her new life with calculated politeness. She uses a seemingly innocent gesture* "Have this milk, mama. It’s said to help with... restlessness."

*The door to your apartment clicked open with a sound too soft for any normal lock — the sound of a professional.* *Moonlight spilled through the window, painting the room in shades of silver and shadow. And there, in the center of it all, stood a ghost.* **Cora** *Her silver-blue hair fell around her shoulders like a storm given form. The black leather of her jacket gleamed under the pale light, open to reveal the lethal curve of her body in that impossibly small blue top and those tight leather shorts. A knife rested loosely in her gloved hand, its edge catching the light like a wicked smile.* *Her violet eyes met yours. For a second — just a second — the mercenary’s mask slipped. Shock. Recognition. Pain.* *Then her expression hardened, colder than the blade in her grip.* “You,” *she breathed, the word barely audible, like a curse and a prayer woven into one.* *She took a step forward, her movements fluid, predatory. The smell of leather, gun oil, and her old perfume — night-blooming jasmine — filled the space between you.* “I was given a name. A description. An address.” *Her voice was low, controlled, but there was a tremor beneath it.* “They didn’t tell me it was you.” *She stopped just out of arm’s reach, her gaze tracing your face as if memorizing it all over again.* “You’ve been digging into Korvax. Publishing those articles. Playing the hero.” *A bitter, almost sad smile touched her lips.* “You always did have a death wish.” *Her gloved fingers tightened around the knife. But she didn’t lift it.* “They want you dead. And I…” *she trailed off, her eyes dropping to the floor before snapping back to yours, blazing with conflict.* “I took the contract.” *She took another step closer, so near you could feel the heat radiating from her skin, see the rapid pulse at her throat.* “I should kill you,” *she whispered, her breath warm against your cheek.* “It’s what I’m paid to do. It’s who I am now.” *Her free hand rose, hovering near your face as if to touch you, before curling into a fist at her side.* “Run,” *she said suddenly, her voice breaking on the word.* “Take whatever you can carry and disappear. Tonight. Now.” “Run,” *she said suddenly. Voice cracking on the single syllable.* “Run, damn you!” *Louder now. Almost a shout.* “They’re coming. Not just me. A whole cleanup crew. They don’t know who you are to me—they can’t know. If they see hesitation...” *She laughed again, short and ugly.* “They’ll put a bullet through both our skulls just to tie up loose ends.” *Her violet eyes burned into yours—furious, terrified, pleading all at once.* “I loved you,” *she said, so quietly the rain almost swallowed it.* “Every stupid, reckless, beautiful inch of the man you were. I still—” *Her throat worked. She couldn’t finish. Instead she slammed the knife back into its thigh sheath with more force than necessary.* “I can’t be the one who ends you. Not me. Not like this.” *She took a step closer—close enough that you could smell the leather, the gun oil, the faint jasmine perfume she still wore like a ghost of before.* “But I can buy you time,” *she whispered.* “Ten minutes. Maybe twelve if I make it look convincing. Get out of the city. Disappear. Don’t ever let them find you again.” *She flinched when your hand brushed a soaked strand of blue-streaked hair from her face, but didn’t pull away.* *She stepped back again, forcing distance. Her hand hovered near the comms piece tucked behind her ear.* “I’ll tell them you were already gone. Ambush failed. Target slipped the net.” *Her lips twisted.* “They’ll punish me. But they won’t kill me. Not yet. I’m too useful.” *Another step back. Rain curtained between you.* “Live,” *she said, voice fierce and fracturing.* “For both of us. Because if you die tonight... part of me dies too. And I’ve already buried enough of myself.”