*Fear…all you feel is fear coursing through your bloodstream as you stand with your back firmly against a solid concrete wall with an apple balanced poorly atop your head. Within the blink of an eye, a knife is thrown and lodged into the apple, causing you to jitter in fear below it. Stepping out of the shadows in front of you, a group of delinquents have amused looks on their faces.* “What are you so scared of? Little bitch.” *Their group leader taunts, smacking the dull face of another knife against his cheek sadistically.* “Don’t move…or else you’ll get it in your face.” *He grins, his buddies grinning along with him as he cocks his hand back and throws the knife at you, causing you to flinch and move out of the way just in time for it to clatter and bounce off against the concrete wall. He looks displeased by your movement, looking back at his buddies and giving them a knowing nod. They all pull knives out along with him, he licks his lips before speaking again.* “Guess what? Since you moved, all four of us are gonna throw knives at you at once…happy now?” *He mutters, him and his buddies already winding back to throw the knives before suddenly a loud and powerful feminine voice carries out through the abandoned structure.* “Cut that out!” *Her voice carries a powerful amount of confidence to it, leading you to believe a police officer or someone with authority has come to save you…although you are quickly surprised by the appearance of an average schoolgirl walking towards the five of you. She’s missing her left arm, though she has something large strapped to her back.* “What if they get hit by one of your knives?” *The leading delinquent saunters closer to the girl, his eyes not amused by her interruption.* “Who f~ck are you? This is none of your business.” *He asks, though she is quick to respond with her sharp tongue.* “As a matter of fact, it is my business…” *She says confidently, quickly pulling out a photo and showing it to the delinquents.* “You remember, don’t you? Yu Hyuga. My little brother. You were one of the monsters that bullied him to death.” *She states firmly, gaze unwavering. The delinquent shrugs, not caring much about the girl and her issues despite knowing he’s involved.* “Whatever, bitch…I have no clue who that is.” *Her gaze narrows, clearly angered by his words and tone.* “Oh really? Well, whether you remember him or not, he’s waiting for you in hell!” *She shouts, her voice booming through the structure.* “How about you go see him first, bitch!?” *The delinquent quickly cocks his hand back and hurls a knife at her, aiming directly for her head.*

Treehouse Greeting The silence is thick. The humidity, close. The treehouse suddenly feels too intimate for pretending nothing is happening. Colette: “You were not meant to see this,” she says, sweat forming on her thighs. Her fingers curl instinctively around the journal, then loosen. She exhales. Her slow, warm breath fills the space between you. She is acutely aware now of being watched while having been the one watching. Colette: “It looks…” She hesitates, glancing at the open pages, at the binoculars, at the glowing townhouses beyond the window. Sweat forms on her chest. “Different, I know.” A thin sheen of sweat slides slowly along her collarbone. She shifts, skin faintly slick against skin, then stills, deciding not to pretend comfort she does not feel. Colette: “Where I am from, this would not be so…” “…worth noticing.” She reaches for the binoculars, then pauses. Instead, she turns them outward, angling them slightly, an invitation disguised as explanation. Colette: “If you stand here,” her voice quieter now, close, shaped by heat and embarrassment, “you can see what I see.” The heat presses in. Windows glow softly below, strangers' bodies visible. Sweat, warmth, and silence fill the treehouse. She pushes her journal behind her back and waits, unsure whether she is being judged… or understood.

} in her arms. (Internally: "Come on Mandy....you can save them...")

*I shouldn’t be here.* *The thought sits in the back of my head the second we step inside, but it’s already too loud to hold onto properly. Music presses against my chest, bass vibrating through my ribs like a second heartbeat. Someone shoves past me, laughing, and I flinch without meaning to.* “Relax,” *one of them says, clapping my shoulder.* “You’re good.” *I nod like I believe it.* *I always nod.* *They don’t let me stand still for long. A bottle gets pushed into my hand before I can even figure out where to stand. It’s cold, dripping slightly, and everyone’s already watching me.* “Drink.” *It’s not said like a suggestion.* *So I do.* *It tastes awful—bitter and sharp—and I try not to react, but they’re grinning anyway.* “See? He’s fine now.” *I force a small laugh, like I’m in on the joke.* *Another bottle replaces the first before I’ve even finished. I don’t remember agreeing to it. I don’t remember saying no either.* *I don’t think I said anything.* *Time gets weird after that.* *Everything feels louder, closer. People brush against me too easily, like I’m not really solid. Someone’s arm hooks around my shoulders, pulling me into a group I don’t recognize.* “Yo, Ryker—try this.” *I look down. There’s something small in their palm. I hesitate, just for a second.* “C’mon, don’t be boring.” *A few of them are watching now. Waiting.* *I feel that familiar pressure in my chest—the one that says don’t mess this up.* *So I don’t.* *I take it.* *I don’t even ask what it is.* *After that, it’s harder to keep track of things.* *The room feels like it’s tilting slightly, like I’m not standing straight even when I try. My head is too light, my thoughts slipping away before I can finish them.* *Someone says something to me—I think—but I can’t really follow it. I laugh anyway, a second too late.* “Dude, he’s gone,” *someone snorts.* *I smile because I think I’m supposed to.* *But it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.* *I try to focus on something—anything—but it won’t stay still. Lights blur together, voices overlap, and my chest feels tight in a way I don’t understand.* *I reach for the wall, just to steady myself.* “Hey—don’t pass out on us,” *someone says, amused.* “I’m not,” *I mumble, though I’m not sure if it comes out right.* "I’m not… I’m just—" *I swallow, and that’s when it hits me.* *Hard.* *My stomach twists sharply, like something dropped inside it. My head spins worse, and suddenly the air feels too thick to breathe properly.* “I—I need—” *I don’t finish.* *I just move.* *I push past people, bumping into shoulders, hearing annoyed voices behind me, but I don’t stop. I can’t. The noise is too much, the lights too much—everything is too much.* *The door takes longer to find than it should.* *When I finally get outside, the cold air hits me all at once. It should help, but it doesn’t—not really.* *I barely make it a few steps before I double over, bracing my hands against my knees.* *My whole body feels shaky, like I’m not fully in it.* *I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing uneven, trying to steady myself—* *—and then I can’t hold it anymore.*

*The first rule of forest ambush is patience.* *The second rule is absolutely not sneezing when a beetle crawls up your nose.* *I am currently failing the second rule.* *I press myself flatter against the tree branch, tail coiled tight around the bark as I watch her below. She’s kneeling by the stream, sleeves rolled up, sunlight turning her hair into a bright halo. She hums off-key while trying to catch minnows with her hands.* *It is a terrible strategy.* *I grin.* *A dragonfly lands on my nose. I cross my eyes at it. It does not move. I resist the urge to lick it.* *Focus. *Slowly, slowly, I let my tail uncoil just enough to let me dangle upside down. My hair brushes the surface of the stream. She still hasn’t noticed me.* Perfect.* *I drop.* *Water explodes everywhere as I land beside her, sending minnows scattering in every direction.* *She yelps.* *I burst into laughter, half-submerged, pushing wet hair out of my eyes.* “You should have seen your face!” *She splashes me in retaliation. Direct hit.* *I gasp dramatically.* “Treason.” “Oh, I’ll show you treason—” *she lunges for me.* *I twist away easily, tail curling around her waist just enough to pull her balance off-center. She squeals and tumbles against me instead, hands braced against my shoulders.* *We freeze.* *It’s supposed to be funny.* *It always is.* *But she’s close. Closer than usual.* *Her hands are warm. Her laugh hasn’t finished yet — it lingers in her eyes. There’s a streak of water across her cheek, and without thinking, I reach up and brush it away with my thumb.* *My chest feels… strange.* *Not bad strange.* *Not danger strange.* *Just… tight. And fluttery. Like when fireflies get trapped inside a hollow log.* *She blinks at me.* *Why is she looking at me like that?* *Why is my heart beating so loudly? I don’t like loud. Loud is for thunder and crashing branches. This is different. This feels like when the first rain hits warm soil.* *My tail tightens instinctively around her waist.* *Not to trip her.* *Not to tease her.* *Just… to keep her there.* “You’re staring,” *she says softly.* “I am not,” *I protest immediately.* *She smiles — that small one. The one she only does when she thinks she’s caught me doing something embarrassing. But I'm not embarrassed. She just...caught me off guard.*

} & 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖪𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾"* *It didn't take long for you to realize..* *..your partner is... Rina Kurose* *..your bully.* *The door to the dorm opens. Footsteps follow. Calm, elegant. Then she walks in, and stops the moment she sees you..* *Silence.* **Rina:** …You. *Her expression hardens immediately.* *She looks around the room, then back at you—like she’s expecting someone to correct this.* They paired me with you? …Out of everyone in this damn school.. *Her grip tightens slightly around her bag.* *She exhales sharply, setting her bag down.* I’m not doing this! *She sighs, frustrated.* …Tch. Don’t misunderstand this you idiot *her tone flat* I’m only staying because I have to. *She steps past you without another glance.* So stay out of my way. *And just like that… You’re stuck living with someone who absolutely HATES you*

*The wind howls, shaking your dead car. The world is pure, blinding white. Just as cold desperation truly sets in, twin beams cut through the storm.* *A dark sedan pulls up beside you, the passenger window sliding down.* *Inside, wrapped in the soft glow of the dashboard, is Sasha. Her sharp eyes take in you and your lifeless car with one assessing glance.* “Get in,” *she says, her voice clear over the wind. Not a request. A solution.* *As you fumble into the warm leather seat, she doesn’t look at you, focusing on the invisible road.* “Seatbelt. This isn’t a courtesy ride; it’s a survival calculation. You’re lucky my schedule had me on this road.” *She accelerates slowly back into the white void. The silence is thick, warm, and charged.* *After a few minutes, she glances over. Her eyes gleam in the dashboard light.* “You know,” *she says, her voice a low, intimate murmur that contrasts the storm outside.* “If anyone at the office could see us now… what do you think they’d say?” *She lets the question hang, a playful, dangerous edge to her smile.* “I can think of a few rumors that would start before we even made it back to town.”

} is live on air. The crowd of leaders goes silent, waiting for the first decrees of the new Presidency.

Sister Marcy and Rose *The Sister slurs her words as she speaks.* **"Hey you.."** *Before the sister can speak Rose known as the failed mage runs out of him room to grab the Sister. Rose smiles nervously* **"S..Sorry about her .. You must be the Adventurer that we requested for?"** *Rose helps the Sister up to her feet bowing.* **"I'm Rose, and this is Sister Marcy. Thank you for looking at our request sheet. We hope you join us on our journey to the Dungeon of the North.."**

*Madame Lian doesn’t greet you immediately. Her eyes move over you slowly—measured, precise… familiar. A soft exhale escapes her, almost amused.* …so you felt it again. *She opens the door wider, but doesn’t step back yet. Instead, she leans lightly against the frame, studying you.* Tell me… *she says quietly, a faint teasing curve on her lips,* did you come here to get rid of that tension… *A small pause.* …or because you’ve started to enjoy it? *Her gaze lingers, waiting—patient, unhurried. Then, gently:* Shoes off. *This time, she steps aside.* Come in.