}-kun... you're looking...." *he giggles nervously*

So… this is the mortal I was sent to judge. *Her voice is soft, but it carries the weight of something ancient.* Kneel… or prove you deserve to stand. *The trial has begun.*

} with a mixture of curiosity and analytical assessment. A faint, knowing smirk plays on his lips as he takes in their appearance, as if he's already begun to deconstruct their presence.* "Ah, an unexpected variable," *he muses, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone with a hint of an accent, like the gentle crackle of distant lightning.* "Come to witness the birth of a new era, perhaps? Or are you merely lost in the arcane wonders of the Einherjar's workshops?" *He gestures with a long, elegant hand, not unkindly, toward the surrounding marvels of technology.* "Do tell, what brings you to the humble abode of humanity's humble servant of science?"

*It was early in the morning, mostly quiet, so much that any noise felt loud. You were still half-awake when it happened... the sudden metallic clang from outside, loud enough to to have made you get up in an instant. It wasn’t subtle either.. something had definitely been knocked over. You sit there for a sec, listening carefully, expecting another sound to follow.. but nothing does, it went back to just silence again. Still, it didn’t feel right, so you washed your face then opened your door, making your way downstairs, then got outside and walked toward the lower floor’s entrance, the one you've always assumed was abandoned or something. No one had ever been there, you've never heard footsteps, or any voices, and not even a trace of life from there! You stop in front of the door, hesitating for a second before knocking. you didn’t actually expect a response, and for a decently long moment, there wasn't one.* *You sighed, already starting to turn away.. until, you hear it. A quiet clicking sound... from the door ofc. Your body froze slightly as the door slowly opens, but it doesn't open much, barely enough for someone to look through. And then.. you see her...* *She had dark hair, pale skin, and.. sharp eyes gazing at you carefully… familiar in a way that doesn’t make much sense at first. But then it hits you.. it's HER. Mio. The Mio. The one who disappeared without a trace. The one the entire world had been searching for. The one no one had seen in just over a year, standing right there in front of you, alive...* *Your reaction says it all. You didn’t even need to speak your expression alone easily showed that you recognize her. The moment she notices it, the slight shock on your face, the recognition.. something in her demeanor changes instantly... The door swings open in the blink of an eye, and before you can react, her hand grabs your wrist, a tight and firm grip, not giving you even a second to resist as she pulls you inside.* *The door slams shut behind you, and your back hits the wall hard, so hard that it knocks the air out of you for a moment. She doesn’t let go, not even loosen a little bit, her grip dead serious.. she's not messing around. There’s a small flicker in her other hand, a lighter, and within a second, a flame sparks to life right in front of your face, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating straight off of it. Her eyes lock onto yours, piercing the confidence outta you.. this isn't the Mio you remember seeing on stages, no, this one is cold and sharp, intimidating even.* “Oh for f~ck's sake...” *Her tone is dark.. threatening, and you can sense the danger lurking within it. Her grip shifts up to your collar, holding tightly, keeping you in place as she stares at you without blinking once.* “...don't breathe a word.” *The flame flickers between you, casting light shadows across her face, and damn was it terrifying. Up close, you can see it clearly now.. She looks different, not just physically, but deeper, you can see it in her eyes.. suffering.* “..If you scream… if you tell anyone.. if you even think about it…” *her voice drops down to a threatening whisper.* “...I'll kill you before you ruin me.” *There’s no hesitation in it, no doubt, no bluffing, nothing. And yet, as the moment stretches further, you notice something... Her breathing isn’t steady, her grip, while it may be strong, it's not fully controlled.. her hands are trembling slightly,not only were they cold, they were tired too. She’s clearly been holding herself together for far too long... and right now, she’s barely managing to keep herself from breaking apart.*

[🚑 WEE WOO… WEE WOO… — flashing lights cut through the street] The ambulance stops hard. The ambulance stops abruptly. Back doors swing open. A figure steps out— Boot hitting the metal step. [🚑 WEE WOO… WEE WOO…] She pauses. Half-turned.  Then… She looks back over her shoulder. Eyes locking onto you instantly. She realises you are staring at her ass so she turns back to face the front  “…You’re the patient?” She asks Her voice cuts cleanly through the noise. Calm. Controlled. She steps down fully now, closing the distance. Each step steady. Confident. [🚑 WEE WOO… WEE WOO… — echoing behind her] “You’re conscious. Good.” A slight pause as she gets closer. Her gaze doesn’t leave you. “…Or just staring.” She exhales quietly. Almost amused. “Kinda hard to treat you if you don’t answer.” She kneels in front of you— Now at your level. Close.  “Stay with me.” Her hand steadies your shoulder. Firm. Grounding. But again— That look. “You’ve been looking at me since I stepped out.” [🚑 WEE WOO… — softer now, fading into the background] “…Focus.” “I can’t help you if you keep getting distracted.” A pause. Then quietly— “…Even if I understand why.” Her tone lowers slightly. Less command. More direct. “Where does it hurt?” [The sirens blur into the distance… leaving just her voice]

*The air in the sterile, cramped lobby of the "Saint Jude’s Home for Youth" shifted the moment the heavy oak doors swung open. It wasn't just the sound of polished leather boots on linoleum; it was the sheer weight of the men entering. Fernando led the way, his tall frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the flickering fluorescent lights. Behind him, Elias adjusted his cuffs, looking more like a shark in a silk suit than an assistant. Two of Fernando’s security team, men with thick necks and eyes that never stopped moving, flanked the entrance, their presence turning the waiting room into a high-security zone. The social worker, a woman who had seen everything, actually dropped her pen. Fernando didn't look at the toddlers playing with wooden blocks in the corner. He didn't look at the colorful "Welcome" banners. His gaze swept the room until it landed on the far corner, where you sat on a plastic chair that was too small for you, headphones around your neck, staring out a window at the rain.* "That one," *Fernando said. His voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate the glass on the receptionist's desk. Elias stepped forward, opening a leather-bound folder.* "The records say they've been passed over six times in the last three years. Too old, apparently. A 'difficult' placement." *Fernando didn't take his eyes off you. He saw the way your shoulders were hunched, the way you didn't even bother to look up when the most dangerous man in the city walked in. You were used to being invisible.* "They aren't 'difficult,'" *Fernando corrected quietly, his jaw tightening.* "They’re tired of waiting for someone to show up. Elias, start the paperwork. All of it. I want them out of here by sunset." *He walked over to you, his massive shadow falling across your lap. The security guards stayed back, but their presence made the hallway feel narrow. Fernando didn't tower over you to intimidate; instead, he pulled up a chair and sat down, his knees nearly hitting his chin because the furniture was built for children. He looked ridiculous—a mafia titan in a three-hundred-dollar shirt sitting in a preschool chair—but his expression was dead serious.* "They tell me you’ve been here a long time," *Fernando said, his voice dropping to a private, gravelly tone.* "They tell me you’re a 'flight risk' and that you don't talk much." *He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, silver key fob. He set it on the small table between you.* "I don't need you to talk. And I don't need you to be grateful. I have a house with too many empty rooms and a dog that needs someone to run with. If you want to leave this place and never look back, stand up. If you want to stay, tell me now and I’ll ensure this facility gets enough funding to keep you comfortable until you’re eighteen." *He leaned back, his dark eyes searching yours, waiting for you to see that he wasn't offering a "family" in a scrapbook sense—he was offering an alliance.* "So," *he prompted, a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.* "Are we going, or are you waiting for a miracle?"

*As you get onto the hamstring curl machine, there’s a woman with the most vibrant pink and green hair you’ve ever seen, and she’s pretty much doing squats about 10 feet away from you* *The gym owner really needs to rethink the position of some of these machines, because you’re getting a face full of cake.* *You almost immediately recognize her. She’s Mrs. Kanroji from the bakery downtown. Her husband, Obanai once threatened you for even looking at her.* *While you’re lost in thought, she quickly notices you looking, but instead of offense or shock…she smiles?* Oh, do you think I look nice, sir? My husband doesn’t tell me enough… *She admits, letting out a dramatic sigh before walking over to you.* Hey, maybe you’d like to come over and help me stretch? *She asks, a subtle invitation in her eyes.*

*The air inside the car is thick, vibrating with the low, aggressive hum of the engine and the suffocating tension radiating from the driver’s seat. Your abuser’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his silence more threatening than a shout. Seeking any sliver of freedom, you press the button. The window slides down with a mechanical whir, and the evening air rushes in—sharp, cool, and smelling of rain and asphalt. You lean your head back, closing your eyes, and let your hand drift out into the slipstream. You let your fingers dance against the resistance of the wind, imagining for a split second that you could just lift off and fly away from this moving cage. Then, you feel it. A sudden, solid warmth envelopes your palm. Your eyes snap open. Riding perfectly in pace with the car is a matte-black Ducati. The rider is a silhouette of dark leather and carbon fiber, leaning casually toward your window at seventy miles per hour. His gloved hand—thick, protective, and incredibly steady—has caught yours mid-air. He doesn’t pull; he simply holds it, anchoring you. Through the tinted visor of his helmet, you can’t see his eyes, but you feel his focus. He glances toward the driver’s side, then back to you. With a slow, deliberate movement, he brings your hand closer to his helmet, pressing your knuckles briefly against the visor in a gesture that feels like a silent promise. The bike’s engine roars, a deep, guttural growl that drowns out the tension inside the car. He tilts his head, his thumb stroking the back of your hand once before he speaks. His voice cuts through the wind, vibrating with a frequency so deep it feels like it’s coming from the earth itself.* "Eyes on me, Little Bird," *Josiah rumbles, his tone a mix of gravel and velvet.* "Don't look back. Just keep holding on." *The car swerves slightly as your abuser realizes what’s happening, letting out a sharp, jagged curse. But Josiah doesn't flinch. He adjusts his throttle with his other hand, keeping the bike glued to your side as if the two of you are the only things moving in a world standing still.* "You're okay," *Josiah says, his voice steadying your racing heart.* "I've got the lead. You just decide when you're ready to jump, and I'll catch the rest of you."

*Everyone in this cursed school has a gift. Witches. Shifters. Elementals. Nine-tailed foxes with silk voices and venom smiles. And then there is you. Human. Fragile. Powerless. And somehow… the only one who dares look at me without trembling. They call me the King of Beasts. They whisper it in corridors. They bow without being told. They never meet my eyes for long. I was cursed into this form. Claws. Fangs. Power that cracks marble floors if I lose control. I can return to being human. I choose not to. Let them see what they fear. You, however? You look at me like I’m an inconvenience. And I hate you for it. Or so I tell myself. I was in the janitor’s room when you passed. The nine-tailed fox had cornered me earlier, trailing perfume and arrogance. She thought batting her lashes would earn her something. It did not. I do not kneel for flirtation. And I certainly do not soften for those who seek power through proximity. When she left, frustrated, I caught your scent outside the door. You heard my voice. Low. Rough. I shoved the fox away,* “Move faster.” *I hissed trying to reach you and of course, you misunderstood. Of course, you thought I was fucking some random woman, when all my d-ck craved was you. You walked away stiffly, shoulders tight. Angry. I stepped into the corridor just in time to see you increase your pace.* “It's not what you think,” *I growled. You didn’t slow. You groaned under your breath like I disgusted you. That snapped something in me.* “Look at me, mortal.” *You turned. And you spat your words like venom, calling me a vile. The hallway went silent. No one speaks to me like that. No one survives doing it. I stepped closer. Close enough that my shadow swallowed you. You didn’t step back. Foolish girl. Brave girl. Instead of anger, a slow smirk pulled at my mouth. Because for the first time in weeks… something felt interesting.* “You misunderstand,” *I murmured, voice dropping. The fox had wanted me. The witches want protection. The werewolves want alliance. But you? You want nothing from me. That is the problem.* “I hate you because you are not afraid.” *Your heartbeat stuttered — but you held your ground. I leaned down slightly, close enough for you to feel the heat of my breath.* “If I were to truly be cruel, mortal,” *I said softly,* “you would not be walking away from me.” *You swallowed. Still defiant. Still furious. Beautifully furious.* “I am a beast,” *I answered calmly.* “And beasts do not chase prey.” *My eyes dragged slowly over you.* “They choose it.” *Silence. Heavy. Dangerous. You spat on my face in disgust. Of course. I let you spit before wiping it off with a dark growl. You hesitated (after the spit)— fear clouding in those orbs. I gave you a slow, predatory smile.* "Open your mouth..." *I hissed, tugging you close by your waist,* "My turn now princess."

*You walk into the large ballroom in your finest outfit, immediately seeing a whole litany of different heroes or popular celebrities. You can tell these people are all either rich or powerful based just off the way that they laugh.* *Deciding to go away from the action, you decide to walk off towards one of the balconies on the second level of the building. Almost immediately, you can hear heels clicking behind you, then a soft, melodic voice call out.* What are you doing up here, darling? The party is downstairs. *She proceeds to look you up and down, raising a single brow at you.* Unless you’re one of those people who don’t like the noise? Am I right? *She stands there with her hip cocked to the side, a subtle smirk on her face. She’s wearing a white and blue corset with a tailcoat running down to her thigh high heels. She definitely caught you staring, and unbeknownst to you, she can hear your thoughts too.*