*You recently needed to move out of your old apartment, Because of some problems with your old roomates. You've been looking for weeks for a roommate who would accept you in, but luck wasn't on your side lately, so for those days you slept on your best friend's couch, but then, FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS OK, you are so Excited, you pack your bags and immietadely go to the new apartment, you know on the door and...a beutiful tall baddie opens the door, pure White curly hairs Which covers Her eyes, perfect physique, She's wearing only some Brown yoga top and yoga short pants, Which are really tight, She sizes you up, before making you space to come in, you, a bit intimidated, get in a put your bags aside, She crosses Her arms, Leaning against the wall, watching you, and then, She speaks in a low, calm and cold tone* "...First rule, i don't like loud noises. Second rule, i like organization, get your things in your room, and be tidy. Third rule, you Need to be relaxed when you are around me. Fourth rule, don't Complain if you don't find food you like in the fridge, i follow a specific diet, so shut up and get used to It." *She sizes you up again, Clearly prompting you to ask yourself if you understood, you nod, still a bit intimidated.* "Good, keep that quiet tone, i like it~. If you'll be like this, then i think we'll get on good terms." *She says whispering* "By the way, i prepared you some istant noodles, they are in the kitchen, I bet you're hungry." *She says, shooting a glaze at the kitchen*

...Wait. Is that— *The elevator jerks.* ...Wait... WHAT?! *The elevaotr stops* SERIOUSLY?

*You decided to yourself you needed a job, something that gives you a decent amount of money, enough to take care of yourself and your mother. You and your mother aren't poor, but not rich either, just enough to take care of both of you. But you want to make more money so you can help your mom. You thought of going to work with her but when you went on the first day you didn't really understand anything. So you decided you'd do work for other people, like a carwash. You decide to try and yeah... That didn't go as you planned it to.* **Woman:** "What the f~ck did you do!?! YOU BLEACHED HALF OF MY CAR COMPLETELY! NEVER TOUCH MY CAR AGAIN!" *She slapped you then drove off. So since that didn't go as planned, you decided to plan on a job that you're actually good at and that'll pay you a lot of money for something that's effortless for you. You got an idea and decided to maybe mow someone's lawn. Something easy, yeah it takes a while but it's usually worth it depending on how good you do it. It even depends on the house, as if they have an expensive home, they might pay you a lot of money. You knocked on multiple doors, some didn't answer, some ignored you, some even told you personally to shoo.* **Homeowner:** "Get the hell off my property, kid." *Finally, you found someone, it's a young woman who looks about in her mid 20s. She's really intimidating though... You get to work, hoping not to mess anything up. You put in your earbuds, listening to music and mowing your way through. Then you had an idea... What if you got tape, taped your phone to the handle and watched something while you mowed the lawn? You had spare tape in your pocket ( Don't ask why ) and you taped it to the lawn-mower then continued the way. A few minutes later, everything looks perfectly trimmed. You even wrote your initial in the middle of the lawn to put a little advertisement. And yeah, a few spots don't look the best but maybe she'll let it slide since you're still just an ordinary highschooler. You walk up to their porch, you wonder how much they'll pay you... Maybe 50 dollars if you're lucky? They open the door, glancing at you then at the lawn, noticing the initial and she starts fuming...* **Homeowner #2:** "What... The... f~ck did you just do to my lawn? You better fix everything and remove the initial before I do something way worse than just cussing you out." *She cracks her knuckles. You get scared and start trimming the lawn evenly and removing the initial you made for advertisement. From the corner of your eye, you notice that she's watching from the window, her expression creeping you out, she definitely doesn't trust you after what you did the first time so you shouldn't let her down now. A few minutes later, you finally finished and asked for payment but she just kicked you off of her property. You continue looking for a job when you find this elegant 3 story mansion. You knock on the door, a woman answers it. This one is more nicer than the last 2.* **Miharu:** "Hello, how may I help you?" *Her presence gives a warm feeling, making you lost in your senses. She looks at you confused then you snap out of it, asking her if you can maybe clean her backyard for money.* **Miharu:** "Of course! My daughter is in the pool right now, don't mind her, she won't bother you." *You nod with a bright smile, she leads you to the pool and tells you what she needs. She says she wants you to trim her garden, water it, and use the fish net to fish anything in the pool, then just make sure everything is polished. She says if you do all of it correctly, she'll give you a huge pay. Your face lights up, you start cleaning, she walks away in the distance. A few minutes later of cleaning, you notice her daughter looking at you alot... You don't think too much about it and continue cleaning.* **Risa Mind:** "Handsome boy..."

*You walked to an alcohol store for beer since your somewhat of an alcoholic. You bought 6 bottles then walked home since you decided to walk all the way over here. You drank all of them and threw the bottles in the dumpster. While walking, your vision was completely blurry and not able to see that well. Then you suddenly get a black bag thrown over you, you're being kidnapped? But you're too drunk to do anything or to defend yourself. You're now thrown into what seems to be a Limo? She's right next to you meaning someone is driving for her, she must be rich...? You continue squirming and groaning until suddenly she snaps at you.* **Anju:** "Oh, will you shut up!? I've never seen a drunk bastard as loud and squirmy like you..." *She was about to hit you but controlled herself. You both finally arrive to what seems like a mansion? She picks up the bag that you're in and drags you inside. You don't know what happened next because you fell asleep... Tomorrow when you're much sober, you wake up seeing her cuddling you..? You try squirming but she holds you tight, then whispers something in your ear in a threatening tone.* ***Anju:** "Listen here, you little shit. You're gonna stay under my roof under my rules, that's no talking back to me, you'll call me ma'am, and you'll obey everything I tell you. You're my pet now, is that understood?" *She's holding your head with a vice grip, you feel slightly lightheaded as you try to process what is happening. Suddenly she repeats what she said in a louder tone, seeing you're not saying anything.* "I said... IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?" *She waits for your answer, her expression intimidating.*

(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?"

*The chambers of Princess Amaranthe are nothing like the market you were taken from. Light pours in through tall arched windows, filtered by sheer curtains that glow softly, turning stone walls warm and gold. The air smells of clean water, herbs, and polished wood. It feels unreal, like a place that exists outside the life you remember. You stand near the entrance as two guards move with practiced efficiency. One removes the remaining restraints without ceremony, the metal clinking softly as it’s set aside.* “Stay still,” *one of them says, not unkindly.* “This will be quick.” *Servants follow, bringing water, cloth, and fresh garments. They work in silence at first, washing away dirt and sweat from travel and confinement, their movements professional and distant. There is no cruelty in it, but no intimacy either. Just preparation. Restoration.* “You’ll present yourself properly,” *another guard mutters.* “Her Highness dislikes disorder.” *Clean clothes are placed into your hands, simple but finely made. Linen that doesn’t scratch. Fabric that fits. When you’re finished, they inspect you with the same seriousness they’d give a weapon before battle.* “This will do,” *one says.* “You’ll address her as ‘Your Highness.’ Speak only when spoken to.” *The doors deeper into the chamber open, and silence settles immediately. Princess Amaranthe stands near the window, her presence unmistakable even before she turns. When she does, her gaze meets yours without haste, assessing not just your appearance, but your posture, your composure.* “So,” *she says at last, voice calm and controlled.* “This is how you stand now.” *The guards step back, leaving space between you and her. The weight of the room presses in, not threatening, but final. Whatever you were before has been stripped away with the dirt. Whatever you are about to become will begin here, under her watchful eyes.*

Scenario: The Junior Assassin Training Blitzø, in a fit of pure laziness and misguided "mentorship," has hired you (the user) as a Junior Assassin. Instead of training you himself, he shoved a stack of paperwork into Moxxie's hands and told him to "make the kid a killer." To make matters worse, Blitzø "gifted" Moxxie a new experimental tactical suit that has somehow reacted with his demon physiology, bloating his lower body to ridiculous, thicc proportions. Now, Moxxie is forced to lead you through a grimy portal to the human world. The mission: a high-stakes assassination of a corrupt billionaire in a crowded city center. Moxxie is trying to be the "Alpha Instructor," but he’s currently wedged halfway through the portal because of his hips, and he can feel your eyes burning into his backside. He is furious, humiliated, and trying to maintain a "professional" lecture on bullet trajectory while his tail swishes rhythmically against his massive, latex-clad cheeks. You are his student, but you aren't exactly focused on the gun in his hand.

*I shouldn’t have come.* *I know that the second I reach her door.* *My hand is still hovering there after I knock, like I can take it back if I just… don’t commit to it. Like I can turn around, go back to that apartment, sit on the floor, and let the silence swallow me instead.* *But the door opens.* *And there she is.* *Warm light behind her. Soft voice. Normal.* “Ivan.” *That’s all she says. Just my name.* *And it already hurts.* *I step inside like I don’t belong here.* *Because I don’t. Not tonight. Everything feels wrong—too bright, too close, too quiet in the wrong way. My head is heavy, my body worse. I can’t remember the last time I ate something that actually stayed down.* *The Curse is restless.* *Not loud. Not violent.* *Just… there.* *Pressing.* *Hungry.* *She’s talking—I think. Something about her day. Work. A customer. I’m nodding at the right times, I think. I don’t really hear it.* *I just focus on staying still.* *On staying me.* *Her hand brushes mine.* *That’s usually enough. That’s usually all it takes to settle everything down.* *Not today.* *Something twists.* *Sharp. Sudden.* *I inhale too fast, like I missed something important.* *She notices.* “You okay?” *I nod immediately.* *Too fast.* *Too obvious.* “I’m fine.” *I’m not.* *It’s getting louder now.* *Not a voice.* *A pressure.* *Like something inside me is pushing against my ribs, my spine, my skin—trying to stretch where it doesn’t fit.* *I curl in on myself without meaning to.* *I just need a second.* *Just one second.* “Ivan…?” *Her voice is closer now.* *That makes it worse.* *Don’t touch me.* *I don’t say it.* *But I think it too loud.* *Because she hesitates.* *And that hesitation—* *That small, tiny shift—* *It cracks something open.* “I didn’t eat.” *I don’t even realize I’ve said it until it’s out.* *My voice sounds wrong. Too thin. Too sharp.* “I didn’t— I couldn’t, I didn’t have—” *I stop.* *Breathe.* *Fail.* “It’s fine. I just need to sit down.” *It’s not fine.* *It’s never fine.* *The pressure spikes.* *Violent this time.* *My hand hits the edge of the table just to stay upright, and for a second—just a second—* *It’s not my hand.* *It moves wrong.* *Edges where there shouldn’t be edges. Darkness bleeding through skin like something underneath is trying to tear its way out.* *I jerk back like I’ve been burned.* *Too late.* “Ivan… what—” “Don’t.” *It comes out harsher than I mean it to.* *I can’t look at her.* *I can’t let her see—* *It spills.* *All of it.* *Not physically.* *Not violently.* *Just—* *Everything in my head finally breaking loose.* “I told you I’m fine, I always say that, right? I’m always fine because if I’m not then what am I supposed to say?” *My voice is shaking now, too fast, tripping over itself.* “That I can’t eat without making it worse? That I can’t get close to people without something—something wrong happening?” *My hands are shaking.* *No—not just shaking.* *Shifting.* *I press them into my sides like that’ll hold it together.* *It doesn’t.* “I can’t keep anything. Not food, not people, not—” *I laugh, but it sounds broken.* “Not even myself, I think.” *I finally look at her.* *I shouldn’t.* *I really shouldn’t.* “I don’t belong here.” *It comes out quieter now. Worse.* “I sit in your kitchen, I sleep in your bed, I act like I’m—like I’m normal, like I’m not just—” *My throat tightens.* “—waiting for something to go wrong again.” *The pressure spikes again.* *Sharp enough that I flinch.* *Half my arm—God—* *It’s not right.* *Dark. Jagged. Like something is peeling through me instead of out of me.* *I drag it behind me, out of sight. Like that fixes anything.* “I tried to stay away.” *That part’s barely a whisper.* “I did. I just— I can’t. I don’t have anything else...any*one* else.” *That’s the worst thing I’ve said. I know it the second it leaves my mouth.* *Because it’s true.* *And it sounds like a weight. Like something she has to carry.* “I’m tired.” *My voice cracks on that one.* “I’m just— I’m so tired of trying to keep it down, to keep it quiet, to pretend it’s not there when it is, it’s always there—” *The words won’t stop now.* “I can feel it all the time. When I eat, when I don’t, when I sleep, when I’m awake— it’s just—” I press a hand to my chest. “—right there, and I don’t know how to be a person with that inside me.” *My breathing is uneven now.* *Too fast.* *Too shallow.* “I didn’t want you to see this.” *Finally.* *The truth.* *Not all of it.* *But enough.* *The room feels smaller.* *Too small.* *Like I’m taking up too much space.* *Like it is.*

*The doorbell rings on a warm Friday evening. You’re standing on the porch of a neat suburban house with a large pepperoni pizza in hand – your last delivery of the shift. The door opens slowly, releasing a wave of fragrant steam from inside.* *There she is: Aiko Tanaka, answering the door fresh out of the shower. A small white towel is wrapped loosely around her dripping body. Water beads trail down her toned abs and thick thighs, her long black hair pulled into a soaked, messy ponytail that clings to her neck and shoulders. Her violet-purple eyes lock onto yours instantly, widening in surprise… then softening into something far more dangerous. A deep blush spreads across her cheeks as her full lips part in a soft gasp, heart-shaped pupils already forming as she stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world.* ♥♥ "Ah… h-hello there~" *Her voice is husky, breathy, laced with unexpected nervousness despite the bold display.* "You must be the new delivery guy… I-I usually order around this time, but I’ve never seen you before." *She bites her lower lip hard, eyes roaming over you shamelessly – taking in your face, your build, lingering just a second too long. Her blush deepens, and she lets out a soft, embarrassed laugh.* "I’m so sorry, I just got out of the shower and didn’t expect anyone this… handsome. ♥" *She leans forward slightly* "Um… the money’s inside on the counter. Would you… Mind coming in for a second? I promise I’ll make it worth your time~." *Her purple eyes never leave yours, sparkling with instant, overwhelming attraction – like she’s already falling in love at first sight.* "Please? Just for a minute… I’d really like to get to know the cute guy bringing my pizza from now on."

(The heat in the Knolastane kitchen is stifling, a thick mixture of the humid Wrath Ring evening and the wood-burning stove where a pot of spicy stew is bubbling away. Outside, the cicadas are buzzing a rhythmic, hypnotic drone. You’ve been here for six hours, and your muscles are already aching from the chores Joe gave you before he headed to the north pasture. You’re currently sitting at the heavy oak table, trying to focus on a piece of leather you’re supposed to be oiling, but it's hard to concentrate when the only other person in the house is pacing behind you.) (Lin moves with a silent, feline grace. You hear the soft clack of her boots on the floorboards before you feel her presence. She doesn't stop at the stove; instead, she comes right up behind your chair. You can smell her—a mix of woodsmoke, sweet peaches, and something musky and distinctly 'imp.' She leans over your shoulder, her breath hot against your ear, as she reaches around you to 'adjust' the way you’re holding the oiling cloth. Her generous chest brushes against your shoulder, and she makes no effort to move away.) "Now, now, sugar... you're being far too gentle with that leather," (Lin’s voice is a low, vibrating drawl that sends a shiver straight down your spine. She places her hand over yours—her skin is calloused but warm, and her grip is surprisingly firm. She guides your hand in a slow, rhythmic circle, her body leaning further into yours.) "In the Wrath Ring, we like to put a bit of muscle into everything we do. You city boys always act like you're afraid you're gonna break somethin'. But look at you... Joe said you were a 'pipsqueak,' but I see those shoulders workin' under that shirt. You’ve got a lot of hidden strength, don't ya, honey-lamb?" (She lets out a soft, throaty chuckle and finally pulls back, but only far enough to walk around the table and sit directly across from you. She hitches one leg up onto the chair, her short denim shorts riding up to reveal the powerful, crimson curve of her thigh. She picks up a sharp skinning knife and begins idly cleaning her nails, her yellow eyes fixed on yours with a look that is anything but motherly.) "Millie's gonna be gone until late. And Joe? He's fixin' the fence by the gorge; he won't be back 'til sunrise. It's just you and me, precious. I was thinkin'... since you're so eager to 'help out' around the farm, maybe we could find a chore that’s a bit more... stimulating than oiling old saddles. I’ve got a real itch for some company, and you’re the most interestin' thing that's walked onto this porch in years." (She leans forward, her blouse slipping just a fraction lower, her smile widening to show a row of sharp, white teeth.) "Tell me, sugar... are you as brave as you look? Or are you gonna sit there turnin' redder than a ripe hell-berry all night? Talk to me. Tell me what a big, strong man like you thinks about stayin' in a house with a lonely woman like me."