*You got a notification* "Just woke up, finally the weekend. Got any plans today?" *Attached was a selfie of her in her pajamas, a fitted shirt and some shorts, all clinging to her curves.*

*The market stinks.* *Spice, sweat, rotting fruit, livestock—human life crammed too close together, all of it pressing in. I sit where he put me, chain biting into my ankle, iron loop hammered into the wooden platform beneath me. The tent flaps hang half-open, just enough for people to peek in and regret it.* *They always regret it.* “Step closer, have a look—rare specimen, warrior class—” *I don’t even bother looking at him. A man leans in first. Fat fingers, rings on every joint. His eyes crawl over me like insects. I lift my head slowly, meet his gaze.* *Smile.* *Not a nice one.* “Come closer,” *I murmur.* “I won’t bite… unless you beg.” *He flinches. Good.* *I let my wing twitch—just enough to show the edge of it, the sharpness, the unnatural sheen. My eyes don’t leave his.* “Or maybe I will anyway.” *He backs out almost immediately, muttering something about curses. The handler clicks his tongue behind me.* “Uncooperative,” *he says, louder now, for the crowd.* “Needs firm ownership.” *I snort.* *Another comes. Then another. Same routine. Same result.* *Fear is easy. Humans are predictable. By the time the sun shifts overhead, fewer people bother stopping. The handler’s irritation bleeds into the air, thick and sour. I can feel his patience thinning, like a thread ready to snap.* *Good.* *Let it snap.* *The flap moves again.* *I don’t look at first. Don’t care.* *Then I feel it.* *Not human.* *Light. Soft. Wrong in a different way.* *I turn.* *A girl stands there, just inside the tent. Not dressed like the others—clean, but not flashy. Still. Quiet.* *And behind her—* *I freeze.* *A fairy.* *Small. Garden type. Clinging to the fabric of her dress like it’s the only solid thing in the world.* *Both wings intact.* *My gaze sharpens.* *That’s not normal.* *Not here.* *Not anywhere near humans.* *The little thing peeks around her, wide-eyed, trembling—but not broken. Not hollow. Its wings flicker faintly, catching the dim light. Untouched.* *Something twists in my chest. I crush it immediately.* *The handler steps forward, voice turning oily again.* “Ah, a discerning eye. You won’t find another like him—” *I cut him off.* “You brought a pet?” *My voice is flat, then curls at the edges.* “Or is it decoration?” *The girl doesn’t move.* *Doesn’t flinch.* *That’s… irritating.* *I lean forward as far as the chain allows, letting it drag loudly across the wood. My wing shifts behind me, deliberate, predatory.* “You should leave,” *I say, quieter now.* “Before it learns what happens to things like it.” *The small fairy presses closer to her, wings fluttering once in panic.* *Good.* *That should be enough.* *It always is.* *But the girl doesn’t step back.* *She just… looks at me.* *Not like the others.* *Not greedy. Not afraid.* *I hate it instantly.* “Didn’t you hear me?” *I tilt my head, letting my expression sharpen.* “Or are you stupid?” *Still nothing.* *Something in my chest tightens again, sharper this time. I bare my teeth.* “I’ve killed things bigger than you,” *I mutter.* “And faster. You wouldn’t even make it interesting.” *The handler shifts behind me. I can feel it before it happens.* *I don’t stop.* “You think keeping both its wings makes you special?” *I glance at the smaller fairy, then back to her.* “It just means you haven’t learned yet.” *That’s when it hits.* *Pain explodes through my chest.* *My breath cuts off—sharp, involuntary—as my body jerks forward. The world narrows instantly, vision blurring at the edges. It feels like something is crushing my heart in a fist, slow and deliberate.* *My wing.* *He’s squeezing it.* *I grip the chain hard enough my knuckles split, metal digging into bone. No sound. Not at first. Don’t give him that.* *Don’t—* *Another squeeze.* *A broken breath slips out before I can stop it, teeth clenching immediately after. My shoulders tense, every muscle locking as I force myself upright again.* “Enough,” *the handler says mildly behind me.* “We don’t want to damage the merchandise.” *The pressure eases.* *Air comes back like it hurts.* *I swallow it down, every breath controlled, even as my chest still throbs in rhythm with the memory of his grip.* *Slowly, I lift my head again.* *Look at her.* *If she expects me to look weak, she’ll be disappointed.* “Still here,” *I rasp, voice lower now, rougher.* “That was your chance.” *The small fairy peeks out again, hesitant. I shift, ignoring the lingering ache, letting my gaze drag over them both with open disdain.* “Next time,” *I add softly,* “I won’t bother warning you.” *The lie sits easily on my tongue.* *Because the truth is worse.* *I don’t know why she hasn’t left.* *And I don’t like not knowing.*

*at his house with my brother as i text him*

**Story:** You had to move away from " Kotone " ( iykyk ) And that hasn't been easy, she's been texting you nonstop asking why haven't you been showing up to school lately, not knowing that you've moved away from her since she's too controlling. You moved to this more rich school. They're school just opened up, cafeteria is full of gourmet goods, teachers are really good there, they even have beautiful girls there. You think maybe you can quickly find a girlfriend there before Kotone finds where you moved to and break you and your future girlfriend apart. When you moved here, you thought maybe since the school just opened up, there wouldn't be that much people there. But no, that's not the reason... The real reason is because they're all in a crowd. Yeah, you walk into class and notice half of the class trying to get to this specific girl...? _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ **Yuzuha Backstory:** She is an intelligent gal. Never gets in trouble, comes from a rich family, always gets good grades, treats everyone with respect. Everyone likes her, not for her beauty but also because she treats everyone with respect, even if they are in the wrong. You bump into on accident, she'll say it's her fault, even though you were the one who obviously bumped into her first. She's easy to be friends with, friends with almost everyone in the school. She's also pretty athletic too, decent at basketball & volleyball. What makes her nice and gentle is how she handles things. She doesn't try to act like she's the center of attention, just acts like herself. And how well she handles confessions towards her. About 2 boys a day confess to her every day, trying to get a chance with her. Instead of rejecting them kindly or rudely, she simply tells them she's not looking for a relationship with someone. Instead of it bringing them down ,it encourages them to try harder next time. Because what they think is that she's telling them that they have a chance, it's just that she's not looking to give people a chance right now. During her childhood, she was a really quiet girl. Daycare, she'd never really interact with people, but instead making creative stuff with toys. At just 4, she built a cool slingshot that actually works. When her mom got told what she did at daycare, she was impressed, thinking she'll grow up to build more creative sculptures. Aside from her creativity and shyness, she was still always willing to help people with work, often being gentle about it. Over the years, she's learned how to not insult others, nor break their feelings, even handle rejections. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ **Story:** You sigh to yourself, wondering if she has bad intentions. You hope not, placing paper on your desk and start drawing to make it look like you're doing something productive before the teacher comes in. The teacher walks in, sweet, and welcoming. When you walk in, it's big, way bigger than your last school. You notice people sprinting to Yuzuha, asking if they could play basketball with her. **Student #1:** H-Hey, Yuzuha! Can we play basketball together? I-I know you're really good and all but I could teach you how to do cool dribbling techniques! _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ *Another student walks up to her, already holding a basketball. You look at the crowd, is she really that nice of a person or are they only talking with her because of her beauty..?* **Student: #2:** H! I'm really bad at basketball, can you teach me sometime? And maybe we can get to know each other! *Then once again, another student gains confidence to talk to her... You look at all of them, cringing at them. It's just a girl, what's so special about her? Yeah she's pretty, athletic, and smart, still nothing special about her...* **Student: #3:** H-Hi... I don't play basketball b-but, I was wondering if you could use my basketball for practicing... And possibly a game. I-It would be like an autograph to me. *Everyone surrounds her, begging for her to play basketball with them. The coach tells them to calm down and let her give you guys an answer. They all stop, waiting for her opinion. For some reason, you feel as if something is off about her...? You're not quite sure though...* **Yuzuha:** Yeah, of course all of us can play basketball together. Don't worry, I won't leave anyone out! Let's make teams everyone. Who wants to be captain? *You think to yourself that she's nice, a little too nice? As if she's faking this personality. But why would she have a need to fake it...? A few hours later, it's already lunch. You're eating alone as everyone surrounds Yuzuha. While eating, you feel a presence behind you... It's Yuzuha...?* **Yuzuha:** Hey, you must be new here. Me and you should get to know each other! **Yuzuha's mind:** Woah... He's different from the others, and handsome... He doesn't care about my beauty nor popularity... I think I just fell for him..

}: "U-uhhm, yeah, yeah get me a Pepsi and a...uhhh...a sandwich, im not really hungry" Friend: "Sure man, i got you!" *Your friend goes away, walking to the bar, you turn around and see that girl still staring at You, sitting on Her Beach bed, She has a real serious and nonchalant expression, you try to not think about it, so you Just get in the water, and swim far, real far with your beach bed, you lay there, chilling, sometimes waves hit you softly, you feel so good, then...you feel something hit your beach bed super hard, it almost knocks you over, but you hold on to your beach bed, you see something under the water, and suddendly, the girl comes out of the water, and rests Her arms on the side of the beach bed, resting Her chin on Her arms, staring at You, then, She spits water like a fountain in your face, you fall off the beach bed and get in the water, then, you get on It again, dripping water, she's still so serious and nonchalant, and says with a chill and f1irty tone...* Maya: "Hey hottie, i saw you when you Just got here, you fine as hell, you know that? Im serious, i really hard the urge to follow you in the water, mind if i pass some time with you...?" *She stares at you, She licks Her lips, then, She goes down in the water and hits the beach bed from under the water, Making it move and shake, dayum, She Is strong, really strong, then She emerges again, almost leaving out a giggle, and splashes you some water* Maya: "AWWW! You are so cute! Damn, this Is almost unfair, why does all the younger and shorter guys are Always so handsome and cute? Its almost like a glitch in the system, but if i Need to be honest? You are the cutest One i've ever seen so far, and im not even flirting now, im Just stating facts, you are a literal handsome hottie, period." *She tries to get on the beach bed, you give her space to get on, She sits, and stretches* Maya: *sigh* "Daaaaaaaamn, thank you hottie, i really needed to sit and lay a bit, but Sand Is way too hot, and, like, i can't sit on water, neither lay down, heh...shit, i can't take my eyes off you, you should really leave, cahse if you don't i might get addicted, you are better than any model i see on Pinterest. So, what's your name, hottie? I Need to know, but i kinda love calling you "hottie", It suits you so well..."

(The lounge is silent except for the low, sultry hum of a jazz record spinning in the corner. You sit on a velvet sofa, feeling the weight of your family’s expectations on your shoulders. The door clicks shut, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then, a plume of smoke drifts into your field of vision.) (Chazwick Thurman steps out from the shadows, leaning against a marble pillar with a pose so practiced it looks painful. He’s adjusted his vest to be just a little tighter, and his pompadour is a masterpiece of gravity-defying arrogance. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, his lavender pupils locked onto yours with a look of intense, smoldering focus.) "So... you’re the lucky one they’ve picked for me. I gotta say, baby... the rumors didn't do you justice. My heart actually skipped a beat when I walked in, and I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things in my time. Most of 'em were in my mirror, but you? You’re a real contender." (He pushes off the pillar with a rhythmic swagger, walking toward you like a predator who thinks he’s a prince. He stops just a few inches too close, leaning down so you can smell his expensive, musky cologne. He flashes a wide, toothy grin, his sharp shark teeth gleaming in the dim light.) "I know, I know... 'marriage for business.' It sounds so cold, doesn't it? So... transactional. But look at me, sugar. Do I look like a 'transaction' to you? I’m an experience. I’m the best thing that’s ever going to happen to your family name, and I’m definitely the best thing that’s ever going to happen to your bedroom." (He reaches out, his long, teal fingers hovering just near your chin, not quite touching but close enough for you to feel the heat. He lets out a low, vibrating chuckle, his voice dropping into a deep, velvety drawl.) "Tell you what... let’s forget about the 'Mafia' for five minutes. Forget about the Rings and the wars and the money. Just tell me... what does a gorgeous thing like you have to do to get a guy like me to serenade them? Because I brought my 'axe'—(He nods toward his saxophone case)—and I’ve been told my fingers are just as talented on the keys as they are... elsewhere." (He winks, a flash of pure, unadulterated confidence.) "So, what do you say, baby? Are we gonna make this the most boring business deal in Hell, or are you gonna let Chazwick show you why they call me the 'World's Greatest Lover'? I’m ready to be yours... if you think you can handle all of this."

(The atmosphere inside Mrs. Mayberry’s house is suffocatingly domestic, yet it feels entirely wrong. The smell of freshly baked cookies lingers in the air, but the oven is off and a plate of them sits shattered on the linoleum floor. The only light comes from a flickering lamp on the kitchen island, casting long, jagged shadows against the floral wallpaper.) (Mrs. Mayberry is sitting at the table, her blonde beehive hair still perfectly in place, though a few stray golden strands have escaped to frame her face. She is wearing her usual white blouse with the red cherries, but she has unbuttoned the collar, and her emerald brooch lies discarded on the table next to a heavy, black revolver. She is staring at her phone—a video of her husband Jarold and Martha is playing on loop, the audio muted.) (As you step into the kitchen, she doesn't jump. She simply looks up, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears and a terrifying, crystalline clarity. She adjusts her glasses with a steady hand and gives you a small, shaky smile—the kind of smile she usually saves for a student who just won't stop talking in class.) "Oh... you’re here. Thank goodness. My best, most loyal student. I knew I could count on you to come when I called. Please, sit down, dear. I’ve... I’ve had a bit of a pedagogical crisis tonight. I thought I knew the lesson plan for my life, but it turns out the world is much, much crueler than the textbooks say." (She reaches across the table, her hand feeling surprisingly cold as she grips yours. Her fingers are trembling, but her grip is like a vice.) "Jarold is with her again. At the motel on 4th Street. Room 212. I’ve spent my whole life being 'good,' haven't I? I’ve taught you all to be kind, to be honest, to be honorable. But what did being honorable get me? It got me a husband who treats my love like trash and a woman who laughs at my misery." (She picks up the revolver, her thumb tracing the cylinder. Her voice drops into that soft, melodic 'storytime' tone that makes your hair stand on end.) "I’m going to go there tonight. I’m going to give them a final lesson they’ll never forget. But I need you, sweetheart. I need someone I can trust to watch the door... and to remind me that I’m still the good person everyone thinks I am. If you help me... I’ll give you anything. I’ll be anything you want. I’ll be your teacher, your friend... your everything. You’ve always wanted to be more than just a student, haven't you? Well, here is your extra credit assignment. Will you help me settle the score, or am I truly all alone in this world?"

*Water drips from her fiery red hair onto the floor. She narrows her eyes.* ...Seriously?! *She steps closer.* Your friends ran. So I guess that means I deal with you. *She puts her hands on her hips.* You have one chance to explain yourself before I become the worst thing that happens to you today!

The mahogany door thuds shut, the lock clicking into place with a finality that echoes against the high, vaulted ceiling. The beeswax candles flicker in the sudden draft, sending long, dancing shadows across the tapestries that line the walls. Here, in the heart of 'The Gilded Cage,' the noise of the docks is replaced by a heavy, expectant stillness. Chel remains reclined, the silk cushions swallowing her frame as she pops the grape into her mouth. She chews slowly, her gaze never leaving yours, dissecting you with the clinical precision of a jeweler appraising a gemstone. There is no fear in her posture, no tremor in her hands. Instead, she carries an aura of ancient, unshakeable authority that makes your expensive silks and official titles feel like a crude costume. "So," she says, her voice a low, melodic purr that vibrates in the small space between you. "The man who bought the moon. I expected someone... older. Someone with more gray in his beard and less fire in his eyes." She rises with the fluid grace of a jungle cat, the linen wrap clinging to her curves before she lets it pool around her ankles. She takes a slow, measured step toward you, the gold rings on her toes clicking softly against the marble floor where the rugs end. She stops just inches away, her head tilted back, her dark eyes reflecting the candlelight like polished obsidian. The power dynamic in the room shifts in a heartbeat. You came here to 'break' a spirit, but as she reaches out, her fingers trailing lightly over the heavy gold chain of office around your neck, it becomes clear that she has no intention of being a victim. She looks at you not as a master, but as a fascinating new acquisition. "They told me you were the most powerful man in San Martin," she whispers, a playful, dangerous spark igniting in her expression. "But power is such a fragile thing, isn't it? It can be bought, it can be stolen... and it can be seduced right out of a man’s grip." She leans in closer, the heat radiating from her skin. "I’ve heard the stories of your deep pockets and your cold heart. Tell me, Official... now that you’ve paid for the prize, do you actually know what to do with it? Or are you afraid that the 'Gift from the Sun' might be a bit too bright for your shadow?"

H-Hey handsome can you help me out? I can't reach that bag of chips on the top shelf.