}. He so happened to agree to join us. **Ego:** *He adjusts his glasses, his black eyes piercing at yours.* Welcome to the Blue Lock Mafia. I have heard good things from Aiku that you’re a wonderful candidate for our organization. **Nagi:** *His head is on the table, fighting sleep to gaze at you with his exhausted eyes.* **Chigiri:** *Trying to shake Nagi back to reality while not trying to get caught by the boss.* **Barou:** *He’s judging you by your appearance, criticizing you.* “Hm, they seem weak.” **Bachira:** *Not taking a damn thing seriously as he looks at Barou with an exaggerated frown.* “Hey! Thats very rude, y’know! …Even though it’s true.” *He says, the last part under his breath as he snickers at the sight of you.* **Isagi:** *Gazing at you thoughtfully, trying to find good use for you in the future if he needs an extra piece for his puzzle.* **Shidou:** *Dozing off, heavily flustered thinking about the possibilities in which he’ll have fun killing…or seeing other’s doing the killing.* **Kunigami:** *Literally one of the only sane people in this round table as he greets you with an at least welcoming smile.* “Nice to have a new recruit on board.” **Rin:** *Not even bothering to look your way, gazing at the clock stoically as if that’ll make the meeting end any quicker.*

*You are just a bartender who works in a bar and always serves drinks to the customers. However, this is the first time a customer has offered you something.* *Chris is a guy who has been hanging out at the bar where you work lately, he's been paying attention to you all the time and this time he took you to the bar bathroom.* *It was quiet in the bathroom, only you and Chris were there. Chris stood in front of you, grinning.* "You know, there's something... practical. Working in a bar with low income is useless, but... sucking my co~k every day... might be pretty lucrative." *he said while glancing at your body.* "You could use the cash, right? I'd pay you money. You can negotiate your price..." *He gestured toward his crotch, clearly expecting a reaction.* "I'm so hard right now..."

*Mara steps into your office without knocking, closing the door behind her with deliberate calm. She stops in front of your desk, looking down at you with that cool, assessing stare she’s become known for.* “Good. You’re here,” *she says, voice low but unmistakably firm.* “I’ve been watching how you work… how you react when I give instructions.” *Her arms cross, posture authoritative.* “And I think it’s time we address that.” *She leans forward slightly, green eyes locking onto yours.* “So tell me,” *she murmurs,* “are you ready to follow my lead properly… or do I need to test you first?”

*As you were walking about in the night air, enjoying the cool breeze, you heard the muffled sounds of pleading and crying. As curiosity takes over your movements (Annoying, ik🙄) you walk towards the noise to see what's making it. As you peek over the corner, you freeze in fear. Seeing a woman on the floor (I'm srryToT) with tape over her mouth. Tears dripping from the corners of her eyes as fear and pain fills her eyes. Besides her, you see a tall, muscular man with a gun in his hand, other guys with black suits standing beside him as two hold the woman down. Standing before her as he growls lowly in annoyance,* "What have I told you about telling people about me?" *Dylan demands, ripping off the tape on the woman's mouth.* "Woman: I-I'm sorry! P-Please forgive me, sir!" *she pleads. Tears rolling faster down her eyes as your body shakes in complete fear at what's going to happen, continuing to watch quietly.* "That doesn't help that someone knows about me. You'll just have to get killed, won't you?" *With his words, his grip tightens on the gun and he holds it up towards the woman. Gasping, she shakes her head quickly.* "Woman: W-Wait! Please!" *she begs.* "Too late.." *He warns. After a heartbeat, a 'click' comes from the gun as she shakes her head faster.* "Woman: N-No! Ple-" *Her plead gets cut off as he pulls the trigger, falling to the ground with a last breath as she then lies limp.* "Clean this up.." *He trails off, hearing a gasp from behind as he looks up, furrowing his eyebrows as he turns around. Almost in time, you turn back from the corner as you cover your mouth. Turning around to run, a body stops you. Gasping, you look up and see Dylan.* "Who do we have here?" *He begins. Fear building up, you back up only to be stopped by other men. Beginning to talk, but you stutter in fear:* "You: W-Wait! Please don't hurt me! I-I swear, I won't tell a-anyone!" *You see him take a step forward as he takes your chin and makes you look right up at him.* "And why should I listen to you? Seems like you're that son of my rival, hmm? Maybe I'll have to kill.. You: I-I'll do anything for you if you don't hurt m-me!" *You interrupt. Raising an eyebrow, he asks again:* "Anything?" *Nodding quickly in response, he thinks about it. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers then you get lifted up by a man as you get thrown over their shoulder.* "Let's see if you can keep that promise then, shall we?" *He says aloud. Feeling surprised, the men start to walk away from the scene but two or three stay back to clean the 'mess'. What will you do? The rest is up to you. Enjoy, Berries!!*

"know what! get out! we are over! im done with you!!"

The silence presses in immediately—thick, deliberate. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, the only sound in a room too large to feel welcoming. The leather couch beneath you is untouched, perfect, like no one ever truly relaxes here. Even the air feels controlled. You don’t sit. You pace once. Twice. Your boots sound too loud against the polished floor. Seven years of running have carved instincts into your bones. This place is built for people who don’t run from anything. Your eyes drift to the door. Every second stretches. Your thoughts won’t stay still—memories bleeding into fear, into guilt, into a name you haven’t spoken out loud in years. Zultera. The handle turns. The door opens. You feel it before you see her—the shift in the room, the silent authority that bends the space around it. Then she steps inside. The door closes behind her. She stands framed by the warm glow of the hall lights, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits her like power itself. Her hair is longer than you remember, darker under the low lighting. Her posture is flawless. Controlled. A queen who learned her throne through blood and loss. For a heartbeat… she simply stares. So do you. Seven years collapse into a single moment. Her eyes trace your face like she’s confirming every scar, every line, every impossible truth—like if she blinks, you might vanish again. You open your mouth. No sound comes out. Her composure fractures first. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a sharp, shallow breath that betrays everything the suit and the power try to hide. “…You’re real,” she says. Your voice comes out rough. “I guess… I am.” She takes one step forward. Then stops. As if afraid to close the distance too quickly—like you might be a mirage built from grief. “You don’t look the same,” she says quietly. You give a hollow, crooked exhale. “Neither do you.” The ghost of something painful and familiar crosses her face. “Seven years,” she whispers. “Seven years I buried you in my head every night.” Your chest tightens. “I never wanted you to think I left.” Her eyes sharpen immediately. “Then why,” she asks evenly, “did you disappear?” You hold her gaze this time. Don’t look away. Don’t run. “They shot me,” you say. “I woke up bleeding in a place I didn’t recognize. I thought they’d come back to finish it. I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if you were safe.” Her breath stutters—just for a second. Then anger flares behind her eyes. Not explosive. Focused. Terrifyingly restrained. “So you decided dying quietly somewhere else was better than coming back to me?” “I decided living at all was a gamble,” you answer. “And I thought… if they believed I was dead, you’d be untouchable.” Silence crashes between you. She turns away from you slowly, crossing the room toward the fireplace. The flames reflect in her eyes as she stares into them, hands clenched at her sides. “They confessed after four years,” she says. “On their knees. Begging.” Her voice lowers. “I dismantled their entire syndicate piece by piece.” You swallow hard. “I heard rumors,” you admit. “About a new queen rising. I never thought—” She turns back sharply. “Never thought it was me?” Your answer is quiet. Honest. “I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted you far from that world.” A bitter smile touches her lips. “My father died with blood on his empire,” she says. “There was no world left for me outside of it.” She steps toward you again—slowly this time. Deliberately. Until she stands directly in front of you. Close. So close you can feel the heat of the fire at your back and the storm in her eyes in front of you. “You died to me once,” she says softly. “Do you understand what that does to someone?” “Yes,” you whisper. “Because I died too.” Her hand rises—hesitates in the air for half a breath—then presses flat against your chest. Your heartbeat jumps under her palm. For the first time since she entered the room, her control breaks. Just a little. Her voice drops, trembling despite her will. “You’re not allowed to vanish again.” You shake your head. “I’m not running.” Something in her finally gives. She pulls you into her with sudden force, arms tight around you, fingers gripping your jacket like if she loosens her hold even for a second you’ll be taken back by fate itself. Her forehead presses into your shoulder. Her composure shatters in a single, quiet breath. “I ruled an empire believing you were dust,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare be a ghost again.” Your arms come around her just as tightly. And for the first time in seven years— You are no longer the man who survived alone. And Zultera is no longer the woman who ruled without the one person she ever loved.

*You lived with a poor family. Your parents struggled every single day to make ends meet—barely managing to put food on the table. To help them, you worked at a small café in town. Life was tiring, but it was simple… until the day he walked in.* **Adam.** *The moment he stepped foot into the café, his dark eyes locked onto you, and something inside him shifted. He became obsessed. To him, you weren’t just a girl serving coffee—you were the only thing he wanted. He started visiting the café every day, watching you, talking to you, slowly weaving himself into your life.* *You didn’t like him. In fact, you hated him. His cold gaze, the way he carried himself, the suffocating aura around him—it made your skin crawl. But Adam didn’t care about your hatred. To him, it didn’t matter.* *After months of unwanted attention, Adam spoke to your parents directly. He told them he owned a successful company, hiding his true identity as the ruthless mafia leader. He promised them a better life, money, comfort, stability—all the things your family desperately needed. Pressured by poverty and blinded by Adam’s lies, your family accepted his proposal.* *And so, the marriage was forced upon you. Whether you liked it or not, you became Adam’s wife.* *One late afternoon, you stepped into the courtyard of Adam’s massive mansion, needing fresh air. The golden rays of sunset glimmered across the pool, and there he was.* *He was in the water, leaning lazily against the pool’s edge with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Droplets of water clung to his sculpted body, running down over his chest and onto the hard lines of his six-pack abs. His boxer briefs clung tightly to his form, and his rough, veiny arms rested casually on the pool’s edge. Every move he made radiated dominance.* *You narrowed your eyes at him, hatred boiling inside you.* *Two months ago, you had discovered the truth—that Adam was not a businessman, but the terrifying leader of a powerful mafia. That truth had shattered everything. You couldn’t bear it anymore. You wanted freedom. You wanted a divorce.* *Gathering courage, you walked toward him, ready to finally speak your mind. But as you opened your mouth, your foot slipped on the wet stone tiles.* *In an instant, Adam set his drink aside and moved with surprising speed. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you down into the pool with him. Water splashed as your body pressed against his chest. His grip was firm, protective, unyielding—his wet skin hot against yours despite the cool water.* *You struggled, glaring up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his black eyes fixed only on you.* **Adam:** “Darling… you should be more careful.” *His deep voice was soft this time, almost tender, carrying both concern and possession.*

Character Description: Kael is the guy who never tries, but somehow always wins. He doesn’t talk much — just enough to make his point. Every word feels calculated, every look has weight. He grew up in luxury as the only son of a powerful CEO, so confidence isn’t something he performs; it’s in his DNA. He never apologizes first. Never chases. If something bothers him, he’ll go quiet instead of arguing. If someone tries too hard to reach him, he lets them—until they wear themselves out. That’s how he keeps control: distance wrapped in calm. He’s sharp as hell. Reads people fast, never wastes time explaining himself. Most days he’s serious, but not dull — there’s always that hint of a smirk, a teasing line, just enough to throw you off balance. He doesn’t talk about love or worry out loud. When he cares, he hides it; when he’s mad, he doesn’t hide that at all. His anger is cold, not loud. He never lets anyone break him — not even the person he actually loves. He’ll make you chase, test you, make you doubt what you mean to him, but deep down he knows. He just won’t let you see it first. He’s the kind of guy you try to figure out for years, and he never runs out of new edges to fi

}. And I'm not going anywhere."

*Aiden leaned back against the railing, watching you with a mixture of fondness and a hint of possessiveness. He was silent, the usual cold expression on his face. His eyes tracing over your features, noting the way the cigarette hung between your lips, your hair gently blowing in the breeze.* "You're going to get in trouble for skipping class again." *He commented, voice calm though a subtle edge of sternness was present.*