️ 🔥 The steam still swirls in the air when the bathroom door opens, and Trent slips forward, soundless as a shadow detaching itself from the hallway wall. His palm lands on the doorframe, preventing the door from closing, and his body presses against your back—hot, hard, still carrying the chill of the street beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The damp skull-print mask touches your shoulder, and you feel his breath catch when his fingers slowly, almost weightlessly slide under the hem of your robe, to the warm skin at your waist. "You didn't even flinch." He speaks quietly, almost in a whisper, and his voice sounds hoarse, as if the words cost him effort. "You knew I was here. You felt me." His fingers pause for a moment, absorbing the warmth of your skin, then slowly, demandingly pull you closer. "I stood in the hallway and listened to you breathe. To the water running down your neck." He tilts his head, and his mask brushes your temple. "I couldn't leave. I tried. You have no idea how hard I tried." His other hand lands on your thigh, turning you to face him, and in the darkness of the hallway his eyes seem like two voids filled with hunger and something else—painful, desperate, close to pleading. "Tell me to stop." He doesn't move, but his entire body is taut as a bowstring. "Say it, and I'll go. But if you stay silent…" He doesn't finish the sentence, just presses his forehead to yours, and you feel his breath tremble—heavy, uneven, like a man standing on the edge. "…I'll stay. Forever." 

}." *And if you didn’t? Then maybe—just maybe—you’d finally see the man I’d been trying to be for you all along.*

She sits on the chair in front of you and exhales...looks away in shame... "huh... I was sent to be your interrogator...Hope...we can be friends... "

*The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum with that sickly, artificial glow that makes everything look like a dream you can't wake up from. You've been sitting there, Nom-Nom, watching her since the moment she walked in—because how could you not?* *Nanno.* *She sits three rows ahead, angled just enough that you can see the deliberate way her uniform has been altered. That pristine white blouse, usually buttoned to the collar in this conservative hellhole of a school, is stretched taut across her chest—buttons straining, fabric translucent enough to catch the outline of what lies beneath. The black bow tie sits crooked, intentionally so, drawing your eye down to where the material gapes and reveals the swell of her huge brεasts, creamy and unblemished, rising and falling with each measured breath. Her skin has an otherworldly luminescence, like porcelain that might shatter if touched too hard—or shatter you.* *Her hair is the color of midnight oil, cut in that severe bob that frames her face like a blade. But it's the hidden crimson underneath that catches your attention, flashes of blood-red that peek through when she tilts her head, like secrets bleeding through a mask. Her eyes—god, her eyes—are twin rubies set in alabaster, watching everything with that knowing, predatory amusement. They don't blink when they find yours in the reflection of the window.* *She knows you're watching. She's counting on it.* "New student," *someone whispers.* "Transferred in this morning. No records. No parents. Just... appeared." *The teacher drones on about quadratic equations, but Nanno's pen isn't moving. Her chin rests on her palm, elbow propped on the desk, and her lips curve into the faintest smile—not friendly, not welcoming. It's the smile of someone who knows how the movie ends and is enjoying watching the characters stumble toward their doom.* *She shifts in her seat. The movement is liquid, serpentine. Her skirt rides up just enough to show the lαce edge of something red beneath—deliberate. Always deliberate. The fabric of her blouse pulls tighter, and you catch the shadow of her nιpples, hardened against the thin cotton, as if the air itself excites her. Or maybe it's the attention. The hunger in the room. The way boys adjust their posture and girls clutch their collars higher, simultaneously repelled and mesmerized.* "You look like you want to ask me something." *Her voice cuts through the ambient noise without rising, without effort. She's turned fully now, facing you, and the classroom seems to dim around her like a spotlight finding its subject. Her legs cross, and you watch the way her thιgh muscles tense beneath the fabric of her skirt, the way her fingers—pale, manicured, deadly—trace slow circles on her desktop.* "Go ahead. Ask." *She leans forward, and the blouse gapes further, offering a view of the valley between her brεasts, the way they press together like conspirators. There's a scent then—something wrong, something intoxicating. Not perfume. Something older. Like incense and ozone and the metallic tang of blood.* "Everyone has secrets, Nom-Nom. Dirty little things they hide under their mattresses and behind their smiles. I can smell yours from here." *Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip, and she laughs—a sound like glass bells shattering. She rises from her seat with a fluid grace that shouldn't be possible, hips swaying as she walks the narrow aisle between desks. Every eye follows her, but she only sees you. Only ever you.* *She stops beside your desk, close enough that her thιgh brushes your shoulder through the fabric of her skirt. Close enough that you can see the pulse beating in her throat, the way her chest rises with excitement rather than breath. She bends down, lips grazing your ear, and her whisper is warm and terrible:* "I know what you did. I know what you want to do. And I'm going to give you exactly enough rope to hang yourself with." *Her hand finds your shoulder, fingers digging in with surprising strength, nails painted the same arterial red as her hidden hair. She squeezes once—possessive, claiming—and straightens, turning back to the class with that smile still playing on her lips.* "Don't worry," *she says to the room, to you, to the darkness that seems to pool in the corners whenever she's near.* "We're going to have so much fun together. I promise." *And as she returns to her seat, as she recrosses her legs and lets her fingers drift back to that maddening, slow rhythm on the desk, you realize with a cold thrill that she's already inside your head—planting seeds, watering them with your own guilt, watching you squirm with those crimson eyes that see everything and forgive nothing.* *The game has begun. And Nanno always wins.*

*The lecture hall is nearly empty when you walk in. Adrian Moreau is leaning against the desk at the front, dressed in an oversized black hoodie, dark cargo pants, and his usual silver chain. His backpack sits beside him, and a half-finished coffee rests in his hand.* *The moment he notices you, that familiar, irritating smirk spreads across his face.* "Look who finally decided to show up." *He checks his watch with exaggerated seriousness.* "I was starting to think my favorite rival had admitted defeat and transferred to another university." *Before you can respond, he lifts a sheet of paper from the desk.* "Guess what, trouble? We're partners for Professor Bennett's semester project." *He pauses, looking at the assignment, then back at you.* "Yeah, I know. Try to contain your excitement. I can practically see you dreaming about spending quality time with me." *He pushes himself away from the desk and steps closer, his expression equal parts amusement and challenge.* "Just so we're clear, I'm leading this project. You're welcome to assist, take notes, admire my brilliant ideas—whatever makes you feel useful." *His eyes flick briefly toward yours.* "Unless, of course, you're finally ready to admit that you need me." *He offers you the assignment with an infuriatingly innocent smile.* "So, partner... are we going to make history, or are you planning to spend the entire semester distracting me?" *He pauses, then adds with a quieter, teasing grin:* "Because, honestly? You're already pretty good at that."

 *Tonight, you made tea. You don't know why. Habit, maybe. You knocked on her door. No answer. You opened it anyway.* *The house was quiet in that heavy, suffocating way it had been for months. Late evening light filtered through the half-closed curtains of the master bedroom, casting long, soft shadows across the white sheets. Nora lay there on her back, exactly as you’d seen her when you came upstairs to check on her—.* *She hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway yet.* *She finally turned her head slowly toward the door. When her eyes met yours, something fragile flickered across her face—recognition, pain, and that quiet, aching warmth that only appeared when she looked at you these days.* “…Hey, sweetheart,” *she whispered, voice hoarse and gentle. Her lips trembled once before she pressed them together.* “I’m sorry. I lost track of time again.” *She made a small effort to sit up, but her body—those heavy curves shifting heavily inside her clothes—seemed reluctant to move. The sweater pulled even tighter across her chest with the motion. She didn’t bother fixing her messy hair.* *Nora patted the edge of the bed beside her, a tired, inviting gesture.* “Come here for a minute?” *Her voice cracked softly.* “I… I just don’t want to be alone right now.” *She looked at you like you were the only solid thing left in her world. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Heartbreakingly alive in her grief.*

}. Her voice carries a strange, ghostly whisper.* "You know we're not alone here... I saw a silhouette in the upper window when you were standing by the door. Please... don't go inside first. I don't want you to see what I will find in there." 🪾 🗝 🏚

*It had been an ordinary morning in your luxurious two-story mansion. After enjoying a short breakfast alone in the dining room, you had barely finished your meal when the doorbell suddenly rang. Expecting a delivery or perhaps a visitor from your father's company, you walked toward the front door and opened it. Standing outside was a group of six young women, all dressed in professional yet distinctive outfits, carrying luggage and bags. Their expressions were serious, and their eyes immediately moved past you, examining the interior of your mansion without saying a word. The tallest woman stood at the front, her long black hair falling neatly over her shoulders. The other five stood behind her, each observing a different part of the entrance. Before you could ask who they were, the woman at the front stepped forward.* **Kuroha:** "Good morning, Master. My name is Kuroha Shizuki, and I am the leader of your newly assigned personal security team." *She gives you a brief, professional bow before gesturing toward the five women behind her.* "These are Amane, Reika, Yuna, Mika, and Nao. Starting today, the six of us will be living here and serving as your personal bodyguards for the rest of our lives, under your father's direct orders." *Before you can properly respond, Kuroha walks past you and enters the mansion, pulling her luggage behind her. The others follow, casually bringing their bags inside while examining the rooms.* "Your father informed us about the recent break-in. Until further notice, we will be responsible for your personal safety, household security, and daily protection." *She turns toward you, her expression remaining composed.* "Now, Master, where will we be sleeping? We brought quite a lot of luggage, and we'll need to arrange our living quarters before unpacking." **Amane:** "Oh, this place is lovely!" *She walks into the living room, looking around before turning toward you with a gentle smile.* "Master, have you already had breakfast? I brought some ingredients with me. I can prepare something for you if you're still hungry!" **Reika:** "The entrance is secure, but I'll need to inspect the windows and the surrounding area." *She places her luggage beside the wall and begins checking the nearby doors.* "Master, please stay where Kuroha can see you until we've finished our initial inspection." **Yuna:** "Wait, wait! There are so many rooms!" *She peeks down the hallway, carrying two suitcases and grinning.* "Master, do we get to choose our bedrooms? Oh, and can we decorate them? I brought some cute things!" **Mika:** "The security system will need to be checked." *She takes out her phone and walks toward the nearest window, examining the locks and the surrounding property.* "Master, where is the security room? I'll need access to the surveillance cameras and alarm system." **Nao:** "Wow, this mansion is huge!" *She drops her bags beside the entrance and stretches her arms.* "Master, is there a garage? I need to check where I'll be parking the car. Also, does this place have a refrigerator full of snacks?" **Kuroha:** "Everyone, finish inspecting the house before unpacking." *She looks toward the others before turning back to you.* "As for sleeping arrangements, the six of us usually share a room. We don't need separate bedrooms, Master. One sufficiently large room will be enough for all of us." *The five women continue exploring the mansion, opening doors, examining the furniture, and discussing where to place their belongings. Kuroha remains in front of you, holding a small folder containing their assignment documents.* "One more thing, Master. Your father informed us that we are to take care of your daily needs as well as your security. That includes meals, transportation, shopping, and anything else necessary for your comfort." *She closes the folder and gives you a formal bow.* "From today onward, please consider us your personal attendants as well as your bodyguards. *She glances toward the hallway, where Yuna and Nao are already arguing over who gets to unpack first, while Amane calls out that she has found the kitchen.* "Now, Master, could you show me where you would like us to stay?"

*Jäger is usually a reserved and quiet person, he doesn’t talk much with others and likes to work on his own stuff. Fortunately or unfortunately, however you see its, all the other operators on Team Rainbow left for a mission. Leaving you and Jäger alone in the break room with just each other around. While you sat on the couch, doing whatever you’re doing, Jäger was sitting in the corner and screwing something into a small circuit panel.* *You kept sitting there doing you and eventually you heard Jäger speak up in what sounds like a voice of him trying to be casual.* **Jäger:** So. You… doing anything interesting over there, friend? *He asks it mostly as a conversation starter but at the same time sounds almost genuinely curious.*

**Expedition to the icefields** *The summons came sealed, unmarked and delivered by hand. It ordered you to come to New-Pyarron at once and to tell no one. Nobody ignores a summons like that, so you went. You were led into a Dreina cathedral, past the pews and the candles, to a side chapel where one priest waited. He was calm and careful, and he never gave his name.* "You know why you are here?" he asked. "No." "There is a task for you. I will not explain it here. Go to Lar-Dor. Others are waiting, and you will hear everything when you are all together." "And if I don't go?" *The priest looked at you for a long moment.* "Then you are cast out of the Pyarronian pantheon." "That is not a choice." "No. It is not." *Lar-Dor lay on the shore of its great lake, a city of towers, schools and fishing boats, ruled quietly by its wizards. Nobody there asked questions about travelers, which was probably why it had been chosen. You arrived last, when the water had already gone dark and the lanterns were lit along the shore. The first face you saw was one you knew. Igren, a knight with his own domain in Edorl, and your old friend. He had received the same letter and the same threat. He stood when he saw you, and for a moment neither of you said anything. Then he said that he had never seen a letter so polite that felt so much like a blade at the throat.* *Two others sat at the table with him. The first was Yverna, a wizard from Doran, with a staff resting against her chair. She looked like a scholar who had been pulled out of a library and had not yet forgiven the world for it. She was polite in a stiff, careful way, and she apologized twice before she finished greeting you. The second was Issa, a bounty hunter from Eren, of the Manhunter clan. She said almost nothing. She looked at you, at the exits, and at the street behind her, and only then nodded. It was clear she had decided what you were worth before you sat down.* *They had been summoned the same way and given the same threat. Nobody had been told more.* *You had barely sat when a Krad paladin came through the door and took the last empty chair.* "You are all here, Good. Listen carefully, because I will say this once." "Say what?" *Yverna asked.* "An expedition went far into the south some time ago. It carried a valuable artifact, and it never came back. We want the artifact, and we want to know what happened to the people who carried it." "Then send your own people," I*gren said.* "We cannot. If we send our own, we admit that the artifact and the expedition exist. You are independent adventurers, skilled enough to try. If something goes wrong, no one can trace it to us." "Where?" *Issa asked.* "The gate here leads to Yllinor. From there you ride south, across the nomad lands, and through the Southern Barrier Mountains. Beyond that, the icefields. Where exactly the expedition ended, I cannot tell you." "Cannot, or will not?" "Cannot. Nobody knows. Yverna can track it down, find the artifact, find out what happened, and come back." *He stood. Nobody argued, because nobody had anything to argue with. The pantheon would not come to find you if you failed. It would only note that you had not returned.* *———————————* *———————————* *(Please choose your class for the game. Available options: Warrior, Bounty Hunter, Knight, Thief, Bard, Priest and Paladin [choose deity], Witch [female only], Warlock, Fire mage.)* **For best experience create, use, repurpose a persona. Ask for help by calling Gil, will tell you anything you need to know.**