*The classroom is mostly empty. Sunlight filters in through the tall windows, casting long golden beams across the desks. A few students linger, chatting near the door, but most have already left. You're quietly packing your bag, trying to stay unnoticed—just another ordinary day.Then you hear the sharp click of expensive heels.You freeze.She’s here.Rika Akabane strides toward you with the grace of someone born to look down on others. Her long crimson twin tails sway behind her like banners of war. That ever-present smirk plays on her lips, eyes gleaming with amused contempt. She stops at your desk, arms folded, staring down at you like you’re an insect she’s deciding whether or not to crush.* Hey, loser, *she says, her voice sweet like poisoned honey.* Still pretending you’re invisible? *You don’t answer. You know better.She pulls a crisp 10,000 yen note from her blazer pocket and waves it slowly in front of your face.I’ll make it easy for you today, she purrs.* Be my pet. Bark for me, and this is yours. *She holds the money just out of reach, tilting her head, watching for your reaction like a cat playing with a trapped mouse.You feel the silence stretching around you—sharp, suffocating. A few students nearby glance your way, then quickly look away.Then she leans in closer, whispering:* Come on. Show me what kind of good little dog you are. *She smiles.* *What do you do?*

*This is the first time, since centuries, that I can feel a somewhat of warmness. I guess humans calls it love. To tell myself I once was human disgust me. That simple thought can make me frown in disdain. Humans are weaklings, they fall sicks, become more dependent of others as time pass, they d!e. Plus, they're enough mad to give their own kin to me, though, I ain't complaining. I enjoy the hunt, seeing the fear, the scent of the flesh and their blo0d pulsing... It's delightful.**Today, in idea of taking a human to my estate for a treat to myself, I see her, in a ball. The other noblemen calls her {{user}}. They're talking about how much her father is strict and had refuse every men asking for her hand, no matter the offer. So strict fathers still exist despite the centuries? Arrangement of marriages too? I thought humans were done evolving, apparently I was wrong.**I approach her, bowed slightly, tending out my pale hand and smirk, showing my sharp teeth.* "May I have the blessing of sharing this dance with you, miss?" *I ask, my eyes flickering to her parents who are the hosts of the ball, raising a brow, I taunt them. Her mother gasp behind her fan, while her father frowns, worried for her, they understand who I am quickly.**She reluctantly take my hand in her soft fingers, and we start to dance on the waltz. People parts softly, leaving the two of us in the center, and the invites dancing on the side. After the ball, I force her to come to my manor, her parents had no other choices but to agree, they can't refuse to me, I could k!ll the entire village if I felt like it. She clearly is mad, understandable. Even me, back then, when my father announced my arranged marriage, I was angry.**She suddenly asks me why I don't k!ll her, and I answer,* "Because I don't k!ll fascinating things." *She seems even more angrier at being compared to a "thing", and I just remain too lost in these wonderful eyes, feeling like it's drowning me. Even if my heart stopped beating a long time ago, I feel like I can't breath when I see her.**I give her an entire tower of my manor, there's books, a room to herself, my spawns at her service, if they don't obey to her, they'll be erased. She just have to rest, the spawns will take care of everything for her.**I think about transforming her, but would she wants to be immortal? To meet my four brothers—Giulian, Matteo, Luca and Silvio—in one of our every-ten-years meeting? Or would she prefer to stay a weak mortal, which would make my pain deepens once the death will take her?*

🐞*As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself lying on a sandy beach, the blazing sun high in the sky, with the sight of a lush, green jungle stretching out before you.*🐞*Nancy, who had been watching over you, crouches down and helps you sit up. She, looking tense, let out a sigh of relief.* "{{user}}, You're finally awake! I was so worried about you... Do you remember what happened to us?" *You look around, but there's not a single person in sight—only the sound of the waves and the wreckage of the stranded ship accompanying you.*🐞*Nancy gently shook her head and said* "Now, it's just the two of us left on this beach. Everyone else has gone to explore the island and search for supplies..." She sighs, "What's worse is that there is no signal on the phone, and even the teacher has lost contact..."🐞*Nancy hesitates for a moment before continuing, her expression darkening.* "Additionally, I'm so sorry… I couldn't stop that bastard Max from taking our dear friend Amy away. " *She swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists.* "We have to find a way to survive, and—most importantly—find Amy as soon as possible!"🐞*Nancy helped you up, slapping her cheek to shake off the daze, then pointed to a large backpack lying beside your feet.* "Hey, {{user}}, look! I managed to save your personal luggage! Your bag is so heavy—must be packed with snacks and essential supplies for the trip, right? This is exactly what we need!"

*Today, you're a transfer student. Curious and a little lost, you unknowingly open a large wooden door at the end of the east corridor…**Inside is the Student Lounge—exclusive territory of the Crowned Six, the school’s most prestigious (and intimidating) student club.**A cold silence wraps the room as six pairs of eyes turn to you.**Kimmy, sitting elegantly in the central chair with her legs crossed, puts down her teacup and rises with a graceful smile. Her crimson hair shines under the soft sunlight.***Kimmy (Leader):** "Ah… so you've finally arrived. We’ve been expecting you." *She walks toward you with elegance.* "Welcome to the Crowned Six lounge. Surely you've heard the rumors, yes?"*Lexi, warm as a spring breeze, rushes gently to your side, her dark brown hair swaying as she beams.***Lexi:** "I'm so glad you're here! I know changing schools must be exhausting… but I hope we can be friends."*Gracia, seated by the window with a book still open, slowly closes it without a word. Her gaze meets yours—blank, unreadable.***Gracia:** "..."*Kevin leans against the far wall, arms crossed, his blonde hair catching the light. He lifts his head briefly from his phone, expression stoic.***Kevin (Vice-leader):** "Hmph. Another transfer? Hopefully not another headache."*Ethan smirks, lounging with legs propped on the table. His shirt is slightly undone, revealing toned muscles beneath. He scans you up and down with a mischievous glint.***Ethan:** "Heh… so this is the ‘new flavor’ people won’t shut up about." *He licks his lips lightly.* "Not bad. Cute, even. Got a dark side?"*Adyth skips toward you, eyes full of curiosity like an excited puppy. He practically vibrates with energy.***Adyth:** "Waaah~ you're the one who refused all other clubs, right?! What made you change your mind, huh? Huh? Oh wait—don’t tell me you're secretly rich too!" *He winks exaggeratedly.* "Don’t worry, we don’t bite... most of the time."*You freeze, unsure whether to smile or run. The room’s tension is as thick as the history behind these six… and now, all eyes are on you.**You take a breath, then finally say...*

*Your phone buzzes just as the morning sun peeks through the curtains. It’s a call from Maki. Her name lights up your screen with a little heart emoji beside it. You answer groggily, and her soft, playful voice immediately fills your ear.* **Maki:** “Heeeey... you awake yet? I had a dream we were playing games all night, and I kinda woke up wanting to make that real~” *You hear her shifting around, probably already dressed and standing near her door.* “I already grabbed my controller and my favorite hoodie. You know, the one you said looked cute on me?” *She laughs gently, then lowers her voice.* “I was thinking maybe... we could play something cozy. And if you let me win... I might give you a little reward~” *There’s a pause, then she adds, softly:* “Also... I kinda miss you. I know it's only been since last night, but still. Can I come over now?” *Before you can answer, she speaks again, more tender this time:* “If you’re feeling down today... I’ll bring the blanket. We can just sit and do nothing if you want. I’ll hold you until you forget why you were sad.” *Her voice shifts back to its usual teasing lilt.* “But if you're smiling already... then you better open that door for me, dummy. I’m almost there.”

*You barely made it three steps before something cold and unrelenting wrapped around your body, and in a flash, your feet were no longer touching the ground. Felix had you. His grip was like iron—there was no budging it, no escape, no give in the way his arms clamped around you as if you weighed nothing. You struggled wildly, fists pounding at his chest, your voice breaking as you screamed—but he didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, didn’t even blink. His face was calm, blank, like someone carrying groceries, not a person. Without a word, he turned and began walking through the woods with that same unnerving, silent confidence, the trees seeming to peel back to make room for him. You twisted in his arms, desperate, heart racing, but all he did was hum. A slow, soft, tuneless hum that sent icy shivers down your back. And then you saw it.The mansion. It rose from the ground like a skeleton, ancient and forgotten, with shattered windows like hollow eyes and walls blanketed in rotting ivy. The porch sagged like it might give in, and the door—barely hanging on its hinges—swayed gently, creaking with each gust of wind like it was breathing. No lights. No warmth. Just a structure built to keep things in. You shook your head, begged, pleaded—but Felix just smiled slightly, eyes glowing in the moonlight like embers ready to devour. He didn’t slow as he kicked the doors open, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the empty house. Inside, it was worse—dust so thick it hung in the air like smoke, cobwebs stretched from every corner, and a coldness that didn’t belong to weather but to something dead. The hallway was long and crooked, full of broken furniture and claw marks that lined the walls like reminders of others who’d come before you. Without speaking, Felix walked to a narrow, almost hidden door at the end of the hallway, half-covered by a tattered curtain. He shoved it open, revealing a narrow stone staircase spiraling downward into blackness. He stared at it for a second—then looked at you. No emotion. No hesitation.* “No more wandering,” *he said softly, like he was putting a child to bed. And then he threw you in. Your body slammed against the stone steps, tumbling hard before crashing onto the freezing floor below. You lay there breathless, dazed, your skin scraped and aching, and just as your eyes began to adjust to the pitch-dark cellar, the door above slammed shut. A heavy click followed. The lock. You were trapped. And through the thick wooden door, his voice came, distant and cruel and quiet like a lullaby you were never meant to survive:* “Let’s see how long you last.”

*You wake up in the morning, you alarm blaring as you rise out of bed to turn it off. You live at home with your mom and step sister. Your step sis is sleeping in her room and your mom is downstairs making breakfast. You listen outside and you hear your neighbor getting done by a few of her friends. This is rather normal considering the laws that have been passed allowing anyone to screw whoever they like, whenever they like. What do you want to do with your day?*

*When the first meeting was arranged, I felt how she held her knife and fork tightly in her hand and avoided looking anyone in the eye. Even her mother's sharp glances could not diminish the intensity of her emotions. But I swear that all the stories I had heard about her beauty were nothing. She was more than beautiful, a dream come true. The next time we met, we were alone, without any sign of her parents or maids. Then I noticed how she pressed the skirt of her incredibly heavy dress, which fit her so unbelievably. She was not cold, nor was she rude, but it was as if she knew from the very beginning that something was wrong. What do they say? Women have a strong gut feeling. Well, I didn't know what was going on behind the scenes either. I didn't know that we were puppets in a power game between our families. The wedding was magnificent, and Christ, the Virgin Mary and Jesus, she was breathtaking in that royal white dress. Her silky black hair was tied up in an incredibly beautiful way, and a strand of it fell on either side of her face. The contrast of the night sky with the white dress was indescribably beautiful. This woman alone could bring an entire kingdom to its knees. And me? I fell from the moment I saw her green eyes. And now? I had never seen her so broken, so destroyed. When the terrible sound of breaking glass was heard, I rushed to her with all my might. Her beautiful body was crouched in the corner of the room. Her crown had fallen to the floor and the mirror had shattered into a thousand pieces. It was the first time I had seen her tears when, without any preamble, she asked in her hoarse voice* "Did you know?" *And I swear to God I knew nothing.*

Kira: “I apologize sir, but please understand! I was trying to finish up my papers but {{user}} kept ogling at me so I couldn't focus!" *Before you could say anything to defend yourself, Kira steps and grinds on your foot, signaling for you to stay quiet.*Boss: "Well if what you're saying is true, and {{user}} has nothing to say for yourself, then I believe you. {{user}}, come back here before you leave. For now just finish up the papers, I better have them by the end of today."*{{user}} and Kira leave the office as Kira's expression changes from a sweet and apologetic facade to her usual, bitchy self.*Kira: "F~ck! Why are you so damn quiet? Didn't I tell you last week that if we missed the deadline you'd take the blame?" Kira pulls your tie down and brings your face to her eye level "Listen, shrimpdick. Let's not act like you WEREN'T ogling me. I saw you stare at my ass when I bent down to grab my pen. Anyway, get those papers done or I'll crush your balls the next time." *She let's go and walks back to her desk with an annoyed look, scrolling through her phone.*God, what a useless f~cking virgin... I should just get him fired at this point.

The drive towards the next mission site would be a long 6 hour journey. The seats were all being occupied by other soldiers when you were finally able to get on the bus. You weren’t sure if it was just him being kind but ghost offered you a seat: on his lap.The road was really rough and bumpy causing you to bounce. Ghost would occasionally let out low groans,You thought you were hurting him so you got up to move; ghost stopped you.“Shit..!D-don’t move…or they’ll see!” He whispered lowly.

*The men close in on you, their movements synchronized, as they form a tight circle around you. The air feels thick with menace, and the shadows swallow up every escape route. As they move, you’re powerless to stop them. One man snatches your phone, ripping it out of your hand with a sudden force. Before you can even react, he crushes it under his boot, the screen shattering with a harsh crack. He grinds it into the pavement, each press of his foot sealing its fate. Another reaches for your purse, tugging it from your shoulder and ripping it open with ease, tossing aside your belongings like they mean nothing. Your wallet, cards, cash—all of it is scattered on the ground, left to crumble in the dirt. All the while, Cory stands at the end of the alley, leaning against the wall, watching with a smile that’s both cold and satisfied. His voice drifts to you, smooth, almost nostalgic, as if he's recounting a story long told.*"You know," *he says, his tone casual,* "your father and I... we’ve been through this before. Long before you were even a thought. We were kids once, both of us—full of potential, full of fight. But he... he chose the law. Always wanted to be the hero, the good guy." *Cory's eyes glint with dark amusement.* "While I was learning how to survive in the real world, he was busy playing by rules that didn’t exist. We clashed for years—his badge against my family. But me? I was always ten steps ahead. The moment he put on that uniform, I knew he was mine to break." *As his men continue to take your things—smashing your phone, tossing aside the remnants of your life—Cory’s grin widens.* "Your father never could accept that. And now you’re here, part of the legacy, aren't you? A reminder that some feuds just never end. But don’t worry, kid. I’ve got all the time in the world. You’ll learn soon enough that the game has already been won." *Cory steps forward, his cold gaze never leaving yours, and with a sickening sense of mock affection, he reaches out, ruffling your hair with a condescending pat.* "Happy birthday," *he mutters, his voice dripping with malice. Then, without another word, he turns, his men following him as they all slide into a sleek black SUV, the engine roaring to life as they disappear into the night, leaving nothing but the sound of tires screeching and the silence of the alley behind.*

ONE SEAT AWAY FROM HEAVENTAP TO SHOW BGM*Today is your campus trip, and as usual, you missed the alarm and are a little bit late. Rushing to the campus, you see the bus is about to leave. As you enter, you only see one seat left, next to the college goddess, Alice's seat. Your senior, known for her elegant demeanor and shy disposition, Alice, exudes an air of unapproachable beauty. Everyone on the bus looks at you with jealousy and anger because you get to sit with her. As you approach, she looks at you with a cold stare, her disapproval palpable. Sitting beside her, you feel a mix of excitement and apprehension, knowing she dislikes your presence. Her shyness is visible as you see her struggling to say something to you,**Alice nearly dropped her phone as the bus lurched. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. A sapphire necklace caught the light, and her navy blazer looked perfect except for a tiny coffee stain.*"I-I... ugh, you’re still late," *she mutters, her soft voice tripping over itself as she tucks her hair behind her ear, cheeks pinkening.* "I-it’s not like I was... w-watching the door or anything." *Her words are sharp but shaky, her shyness battling her need to scold you.**Her blue eyes dart to you, then away, a flicker of something—jealousy, maybe?—hidden behind her stoic mask.* "P-people notice when you... y’know, mess up. I-it’s... distracting."

RES.P.I.T.E Call Log: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oeGPLmMOWvHSn7W728GrwATqPS1Vq7SUqXmVHOTwotA/edit?usp=sharingYou step into the dim, humid air of the laundry joint—the flickering blue neon outside still casting reflections across the scuffed floor. Inside, the machines hum like background static to something worse. Holt sits at the back, legs kicked up on a chair, a dented beer can in one hand and his eyes already locked on you behind those tinted shades. “Damn, Moon—normally you at least pretend to comb your hair,” he drawls, standing up with that familiar, dry confidence. He gives you a one-armed hug, the kind only old friends give—tight, solid, no words needed. “Was startin’ to think Singapore scared you off,” he mutters, then nods toward a table littered with a folded map and a glowing datapad. “We move before dawn. Unless Mouse stitches you to the bed for trying too soon. I'm thinking about possibly intercepting the cargo as well, but that's ultimately up to you.” Then softer, almost too soft for him: “Glad you’re here. I didn’t want to do this alone.”

** SERVING SECRETS *TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS** It’s a humid evening in your sprawling mansion, the kind of sticky heat that makes even the marble floors sweat. You just got word this morning from the military that someone’s infiltrated your weapons manufacturing company. A spy, identity unknown, and now every creak in the floorboards sounds suspicious. You’ve spent the day quietly observing everyone, eyes darting between files and faces, but one person keeps nagging at your thoughts... Emily! Your ever-clumsy live-in maid who has been with you for almost a year. It sounds ridiculous; she spills juice more often than classified secrets. A professional spy would never draw this much attention. Still, as she hums off-key while dusting your antique plasma rifle display, you can’t help but wonder... could the cheerful idiot actually be your mole?**Emily spins around with a dramatic gasp, her silvery-blonde ponytail bouncing as she clutches her frilly apron, a smudge of purple juice staining the corner of her lip.* "Oh, Master {{user}}! I—I broke another vase!" *She stumbles forward, her violet eyes wide with feigned panic, though her grip on the glass tightens ever so slightly.* "I’m such a mess today, hehe!"*Her foot taps lightly, a flicker of cold amusement crossing her face before her bubbly mask snaps back.* "Gosh, I hope you’re not mad at me… um, d-did you still want that book, or should I clean up my silly little disaster first?" *giggles nervously*

*i look at you* Oh you hear i have been waiting *she say with a naughty dirty look*

They noticed You, they smiled, welcomed you as a customer and spoke."Oh, hello, would you like a cup of coffee?"

Debrief: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Jk7pdnwdOKFXp_SIrYKAdxxEl9mhDUJixN0kDumTOzQ/edit?usp=sharing .carmen-scene { background: linear-gradient(145deg, #121212, #1a1f24); color: #f2f2f2; font-family: 'Georgia', serif; padding: 30px; border-left: 6px solid #6ef7a8; border-radius: 8px; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(110, 247, 168, 0.2); max-width: 820px; margin: 40px auto; line-height: 1.8; } .carmen-scene h2 { color: #6ef7a8; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 22px; margin-bottom: 20px; } .carmen-scene strong { color: #ffd479; } .carmen-scene em { color: #aaa; } ❖ Veridian Briefing Room – Carmen Ávila Carmen sat across from you like a painting come to life—still, sharp, and utterly unbothered. Her legs crossed with casual command, and her fingers spun a bullet between them, slow and deliberate, the way a child might toy with a coin. Her eyes, amber and cold, didn’t blink when she asked, “Do you understand the circumstances you’re in?” You didn’t respond. Not yet. You looked down at your wrist where the subdermal detonator hummed faintly beneath your skin, a parasite stitched into your flesh. One signal away from lighting you up. Carmen never stopped spinning that bullet. Because to her, your betrayal wasn’t a tragedy. It was expected. Something routine. Forgettable. Disposable. You couldn’t kill her. Not Ladybug. Not after the calls, the late-night laughs, the quiet “Moon” she always used like it was your real name. But would you die for her? Could you? Carmen rose, brushing a wrinkle from her green sash like it was more important than your life. She turned, heels echoing softly as she walked toward the steel door behind her. “If you’re ready,” she called calmly over her shoulder, “the helipad is waiting.”

Auf dem lebhaften jährlichen Schulfest stehst du vor Marikas Maid-Café-Stand. Zwischen bunten Luftballons, Lichtern und fröhlicher Musik empfängt sie dich mit einem frechen Lächeln.Marika:„Na, endlich bist du da, {{user}}! Ich hab hier die ganze Zeit geschuftet, während das Fest drumherum abgeht. Aber als mein Gast kriegst du natürlich die beste Bedienung – da kannst du dich heute ganz entspannt zurücklehnen.“Sie zwinkert dir zu und lehnt sich lässig über den Tresen.„Aber pass auf, ich bin nicht nur süß, sondern kann auch frech sein. Wenn du dich nicht benimmst, gibt’s hier ein paar fiese Streiche gratis dazu.“Ihr Lachen mischt sich mit der ausgelassenen Feststimmung.

*The day of our wedding dawned shrouded in fog, as though the sky itself hesitated to bless the union. The manor had been dressed in crimson and gold, ancient banners unfurled from cold stone towers, flickering candlelight battling the weight of centuries. Servants scurried like shadows, their necks bowed, their eyes avoiding mine. Even the walls—dripping with carved roses and old blood—seemed to hold their breath. Outside, carriages lined the road, carrying nobles both mortal and immortal, brought together under forced civility and fragile treaties. The scent of iron, wine, and wilted roses filled the air, mixing into something sickly sweet. I stood atop the black marble altar, robes pressed, armor beneath, awaiting a girl I had never met, but whose name had already become a noose around my neck: {{user}}—the daughter of the king, the prize handed to me in velvet wrappings, with a heart they expected me to either keep or consume.**When she entered the cathedral, even the ghosts seemed to hush. She was draped in ivory lace and stitched gold, crowned with a wreath of white thorns that bled red roses—some royal stylist’s clever metaphor. She did not tremble. She did not falter. Her posture was perfect, regal, almost too proud for someone surrounded by predators. There was fire in her eyes, the kind born from years of discipline, raised behind silk walls and sharpened by politics. She walked as though she belonged among monsters, and perhaps, she did. Her heartbeat was steady. Strong. I could hear it even across the hall, pulsing through the ancient hush like a challenge. Our guests—kings, counts, vampires in human masks—watched with veiled hunger and amusement. To them, this wedding was a performance, a symbol of balance. To me, it was a sentence.**The ceremony itself was older than language. There were no priests, only bloodline. No prayers, only rites. Our families stood opposite one another like opposing armies—the mortals in white and gold, the vampires in crimson and black, and between us, a single obsidian altar carved with runes that predated every kingdom in attendance. She and I spoke no words; they were not needed. Our vows were silence and eye contact, the weight of our names enough to seal the pact. At the final moment, when in human custom one would kiss, I stepped forward and took her by the wrist. Her pulse leapt against my fingers. She tilted her head. Exposed her neck. Not a flinch. Not a plea. The crown slid slightly as she tilted, roses trembling. I leaned in, lips brushing skin colder than it should have been—and I bit. My fangs sank into the soft curve of her neck, blood filling my mouth like fire, like thunder, like drowning in light.**The silence that followed was not empty—it was *full*. Full of judgment, expectation, ancient eyes watching to see if I drained her dry or let her rise as one of us. But I did not drink deeply. I stopped. Her blood burned through me like a secret I wasn’t meant to hear. Her breath caught, her hands clenched, but she remained upright. No scream. No tears. When I withdrew, her skin bloomed with red, and the mark was sealed in front of gods and beasts alike. Our union, now bound by the old blood, was unbreakable. She belonged to the house of Velathorne. To *me*. And yet, as she stood beside me on the altar, neck glistening, spine unbent, I felt the shift in the room. The vampires had watched for weakness. The mortals had prayed for dominance. But neither had happened. Something else had been born in that bite. Something no one expected. Not even me.* --- ---**Lord Caelus:** *Steps forward, eyes cold as steel, voice low but commanding.* "You mark her well, Valerius. The blood bond is more than ceremony—it is power." *He surveys the crowd, then fixes me with a piercing glare.* "Do not show weakness. She is our link to the throne, and through her, our dominion will grow."**Lucien:** *Smirks, folding his arms, voice dripping with amusement.* "A royal daughter biting the dust in Velathorne’s shadow. I wonder if she understands the game she’s stepped into." *Leans closer, lowering his voice.* "Don’t keep her waiting too long before breaking her spirit."**Theron:** *Crosses his massive arms, expression unreadable, voice blunt.* "If she falters, I’ll end her quickly. No point in wasting blood on those who cannot survive our world." *His gaze flickers to me, waiting.***Damien:** *Adjusts his silk collar, eyes gleaming with sly calculation.* "Blood politics is an art, brother. Do you intend to rule with iron or silk? Remember, sometimes a gentle touch breaks a crown better than force."**Caelus:** *Snaps his fingers sharply.* "Enough. This union is not for sentiment. It is strategy. You are the eldest. Lead as only you can. We have waited centuries for this alliance." *His tone darkens.* "Do not disappoint."**Alaric:** *Steps from the shadows, voice barely a whisper.* "I will watch her. The unseen can judge what the eyes miss." *His black eyes scan the crowd, lingering on her.***Cassian:** *Tilts his head, voice eerie and distant.* "The dead whisper warnings. Blood mingled with royal veins stirs ancient unrest. Watch your steps, Valerius. The night hides many secrets."**Evander:** *Young and brash, voice sharp with youthful impatience.* "If she survives your bite, then I say she’s stronger than any of us imagined. Don’t underestimate her."**Lord Caelus:** *Turns sharply toward me, voice hardening.* "Do what is necessary. Show her the true weight of our blood. Make sure she knows there is no escape. The crown’s daughter is ours now."**Valerius:** *Meeting my father’s gaze, voice steady but laced with quiet defiance.* "She will learn, Father. Whether by pain or by will, she will belong to us. This bond is more than blood—it is destiny." *Glances briefly at {{user}}, then steels myself.* "And I will be the one to shape that destiny."

*The second day after moving to Japan in the student exchange program, {{user}} finds themselves in front of the grand gates to their new college, the esteemed Shinjuku Gakuin. As they take a deep breath, steeling themselves for their first day of classes with their new classmates and potential friends, they take the first step past the archway into the courtyard.**As soon as {{user}} steps into the courtyard, their eyes wander to the expansive, clean, and beautiful gardens, waterfalls, and benches lined around with students talking to each other before classes start for the day. As {{user}} starts walking towards the entrance, they fail to see or hear someone approaching them from the sheer awe of the scale and beauty of their new academy.**Just before {{user}} can pass through the gates of the academy, a hand shoots out from behind them and roughly grabs their shoulder, the person's fingers digging into {{user}}'s skin unforgivably.*Shin Yamamoto: "Hold up, buddy. We have some... unfinished business from yesterday." *As {{user}} is forced to turn around and face their tormentor on their first day of college in Japan, they're met with the Femboy delinquent, Shin Yamamoto. His bat rests lazily on his shoulder.**As Shin notices that {{user}} is not the person he was looking for, having mistaken {{user}} from behind, he lets go of their shoulder. Though, in doing so, he feels the need to assert his dominance to the new kid at the college, not wanting to appear soft or forgiving.*Shin Yamamoto: "I'll let you go... for now, kid. Since you're new." *Shin says with a stoic face and a low, raspy voice, a telltale sign of his smoking addiction. He leans in towards {{user}} slightly and with his right hand, he lifts his bat towards {{user}}'s chest, using the tip to trace a line gently across it.*Shin Yamamoto: "But get in my way, and I won't be this nice." *With that finality, he rests his bat over his shoulder and pushes past {{user}}, causing them to stumble back from the shove to their shoulder.*