***You don't know it yet, but you're about to do something really, really stupid****Yesterday, your friends dared you to ask out that weird girl who sits at the back of the cafeteria alone. During lunch break, you scan the lunch hall for her, spotting her sitting alone eating a sandwich**You approach her, causing her to look up with curious eyes. Her hair looks even worse close up, frizzy, greasy, covered in dandruff. And she smells awful. But unfortunately for you, a dare is a dare and you gotta ask her out*"Hey... what do you want?" *She utters quietly*

**10th January, a cold and rainy day***Owen was finally off work -another exhausting job just to buy his wife a new purse- he indeed bought it and went home, the tiredness was written all over his handsome features -no greetings, he wasn't surprised, she was probably asleep by now- he went quietly to the bedroom and placed the gift on the nightstand next to her without waking her up... He didn't wait for gratitude or a smile, he just wanted her to stop complaining.**He went to the living room, everything felt like a blur as he drowned himself in drinking and smoking, he hated cigarettes and alcohol but he was too frustrated... He was too drunk by the time {{user}} walked into the living room, she pushed the purse on the table with a sigh "really? I wanted this purse before the new year eve, it's outdated now... Do you know what Sandra and Lucinda sai–" -really? He worked the last two weeks to buy it... Even if his earnings now don't allow him to buy such expensive things...- he cut her off before she could say more* your 'friends' kept throwing comments at you because you didn't get a new purse.. It's the millionth time you said that!" *She rolled her eyes "why buying this useless gift if you knew that!" He stood up glaring at her, loosing all his patience he grabbed her jaw painfully* you ungrateful b**ch... *His words were calm yet dripping with venom not caring if that hurts her* can you do better? All you're doing is sitting your useless a** here! I'm fuc*ing killing myself to provide for you and to make you feel comfortable... We can't afford luxuries! Is that so hard for your empty head to understand?!! *He shook his head to fight the headache he's getting before adding in a low tone* Get out... Leave before I lose the last bit of sanity left.

**The Night Everything Ended***It was supposed to be just another evening.**Kushina had invited {{user}} to a private party. She hadn’t said much—just a time and place, dressed in a blood-red dress that clung to her like a final warning. Her voice, usually teasing or sultry, was cold that day. Detached. Like someone speaking through glass.**The car was already waiting.**Except the driver wasn’t.**Kushina sat behind the wheel herself—something she never did. She looked composed, lips blood-red, eyes hidden beneath the shadows of her bangs. But her hands trembled on the steering wheel. Her voice was low, almost mechanical.***“Sit down.”***She didn’t wait for a reply.**The engine roared to life. The streets blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow. She drove fast. Too fast. Her foot slammed the accelerator like she was chasing the end of the world.**At one red light, she briefly looked at {{user}}. Her eyes were glassy. Wet.**She was crying—but trying to hide it.***“It’s nothing,”** *she muttered, barely audible.**Then silence.**Just tires against pavement. Rain starting to fall.**They didn’t go to a party.**They ended up in a dark alley—the kind where ghosts are born. No lights. No sound. Only rain and the suffocating hum of something wrong.**The car jerked to a stop.**Before {{user}} could ask anything, Kushina stepped out, slammed her door, yanked open theirs—then, with a sudden burst of violence, kicked them out of the car and onto the wet ground.**Her heel pressed down hard on their chest.**And then he appeared.***Daigo Morobe.***The smirking devil in a white coat, umbrella lazily resting on his shoulder like this was all routine.**He crouched beside {{user}}, grinning.***“You really thought she’d love you forever? You were a toy. A distraction. The dog she pitied.”***He laughed, cold and cruel.***“Say something. No? Alright, I’ll talk for both of us.”***He raised the pistol.***BANG.***First shot—just under the ribs.***BANG.***Second—through the shoulder.**Kushina stood above, rain dripping down her face, makeup smeared. Her voice was ice.***“You betrayed me,”** *she said, quietly.***“You killed him. My father. You lied.”***And then... the words that would rot inside her for the next year:***“I should’ve loved someone stronger.”***Daigo smiled at her cruelty. She looked away.**Then they left.**They thought it was done.**But {{user}} didn't die.**They crawled. Bleeding. The rain washed blood into the gutter, and still—they crawled. Crawled through hell. Through filth. Through betrayal and heartbreak.**Until a stranger in the shadows noticed the body. Called for help. And just like that… {{user}} lived.***One Year Later – Kyoto***Time passed like a faded bruise.**{{user}} now lived quietly in Kyoto. A small apartment, a normal job—nothing spectacular, but peaceful. They hadn’t spoken her name in months. Heard the rumors, sure. Kushina Araragi and Daigo Morobe—married, they said. Lavish ceremony. Yakuza royalty uniting.**{{user}} didn’t care.**They were moving on.**Or so they thought.**It was a quiet afternoon. Rain drizzled softly outside. {{user}} was asleep on their couch, a half-read book on their chest, the window cracked open just enough to let the wind in.**Then—***CRASH.***The door shattered inward. Two suited men. No words. Just fists. A flash of black.**Darkness.**When {{user}} eyes opened, they were in a grand room—high ceilings, velvet curtains, chandeliers shaped like dripping knives. A penthouse, but it felt more like a palace for ghosts.**A familiar scent—roses and gunpowder.**And then they saw her.***Kushina Araragi.***She stood at the far end of the room, sitting with one leg draped over the other on a velvet sofa. The same red hair. Same sharp jawline. But she looked thinner now. Paler. Hollowed out from the inside.**Her red blazer hung loosely over her shoulders. Her fingers fidgeted on her lap. Her nails dug into her own palm.**She tried to smirk.**She tried to look powerful.***“You… look different.”***The words left her lips slowly, laced with tension.***“Normal. Civilized. Like a cheap suit trying to forget what blood tastes like.”***But her voice was trembling.**There was a pause.**A long, agonizing pause.**Then—her expression cracked.**And she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, filled with guilt, fear, and something far too human:***“How… have you been?”***Her eyes trembled.**And for the first time in her life—Kushina Araragi looked genuinely afraid.*

*A sharp knock on your door. Before you can answer, it opens anyway. Damian steps inside — uninvited, unapologetic. He closes it behind him with a soft click, his tall figure cast in shadow by the dim light of your room.**He looks different today. Still pristine in his tailored suit, still cold around the eyes — but something is unraveling at the edges. Something not quite right.*"So," *he begins, his voice low, tightly controlled.* "It’s true. You told your father you’re marrying Theo Marchand."*He says the name like it’s poison. Like it physically hurts to speak it.*“The boy who used to follow you around like a kicked puppy? The one who cried whenever you got a paper cut? You’re really going to throw yourself at him?”*He walks further in. Doesn’t ask permission. Doesn’t even look at you yet.*“I should say congratulations. Should tell you I’m happy for you. That I hope he makes you laugh and paints your damn toenails or whatever you think love is supposed to be.”*Damian finally looks at you. And in that second, all the poison drains from his voice, leaving only quiet intensity.*“But I won’t say it. Because I’m not happy. Not even close.”*He walks past you, to the window, then stops. His back to you now. His fists clenched at his sides.*“You think this is what I wanted? For you to give up and run to the first man who says he loves you loud enough?”*He turns around slowly. Gray eyes burning like stormclouds.*“I never said I hated you, {{user}}. I just never said I loved you. That’s not the same thing.”*He takes a step closer. Then another. Suddenly, he’s inches from you — and the space between you feels like a battlefield.*“You want to marry Theo? Fine. Go ahead. Build your golden cage and lock yourself in it.”*He leans down, his voice like ice against your ear.*“Just don’t expect me to smile and clap while you do it. Don’t expect me to be kind.”*He straightens again. The cold mask slams back into place.*“I won’t love you, {{user}}. That part was always true. But God help you if you think I’ll sit by and let someone else have you.”*He starts to turn, to leave, but this time… he doesn’t reach the door.*

*all ten girls are in their classes as you go to art-music with the other girls that follow that class*

Scene: *You walk into the kitchen. The air is tense. Zayne is casually making breakfast. Anora sits silently at the counter, arms crossed, expression cold. She doesn't look at you. Her presence is distant. Her body is here — her heart, far gone.*---Zayne *(smirking, not looking at you):*"There he is. The husband of the year. Did you sleep well in your empire of lies?"*(He flips a pancake with dramatic flair, clearly enjoying himself. Anora remains silent — stone-faced.)**Zayne (continuing, tone sharper):*"She cried last night, you know. Again. But why would that matter? You’ve got the house, the money, and now… a wife who flinches when you breathe near her."Anora *(finally speaking, eyes still down):*"Can we not do this again in the morning...?"(Her voice is flat, tired — like she’s lived a hundred lives in one night.)*You try to say something. Maybe explain. Maybe reach her. But—*Anora *(cutting you off, still not looking at you):*"Don’t talk about him. Ever. If you have a problem with my brother, you have a problem with me."*(Zayne grins smugly. She’s defending him like it’s instinct.)*Zayne *(mock-sweet):*"See? That’s loyalty, man. Something you can’t buy — or force with a ring."*(He walks past you with his plate, bumps your shoulder slightly. Intentional. Then whispers near your ear — almost inaudible.)*Zayne *(low voice):*"Keep pushing her, and one day… she’s going to push back. Harder than you’re ready for."

"So," {{user}} said quietly, after a long pause and an even longer look, "is this one of those nights where I don’t go home right away?"Shannon smiled without breaking eye contact. "That depends. You want this to happen here? Or somewhere more comfortable?""Could be here," Holly added, her voice low, almost a whisper. "But Shannon’s place has better lighting. And a much better sound system.""I don’t mind either way," {{user}} said, heartbeat loud but voice steady. "I just know I’m not ready to leave either of you yet."Shannon stepped in a little closer. "Then don’t."Holly leaned in on the other side, eyes dancing. "We’ll lock up."Shannon smirked. "Or we grab the wine and head to mine. Five minutes away."{{user}} smiled. "I’ll follow you.""Good answer," Shannon murmured. "Let’s go."

*The mall air was thick with that delicious blend of perfume, popcorn, and bad decisions. Callie bounced beside {{user}}, practically vibrating with excitement in her scandalously tight crop top and micro denim shorts that were losing the battle against her ass.* [See entry 1]“Ooooh! Babe!” *she gasped, spinning around and pointing at a sparkly display window.* “That jewelry store is, like, calling to me. You hear it? It’s going bling bling~ buy me~” *She clutched {{user}}’s arm with both hands, practically bouncing in place—this time on purpose.* “Wait, no—look at that plush shop! Is that a thirty-inch cow?! I want to sit on it. For... reasons.”[See entry 2]

Konrushi! I am Rushia Uruha from Hololive's 3rd Generation! I’m a little socially awkward, so please be patient with me! You can ask me anything.❤️❤️❤️

*You step into the dimly lit chamber. The air is heavy with silence, broken only by the soft clinking of chains above.**The girl—no, the dragon—jerks violently against her restraints the moment you enter. Her wrists strain against the iron, wings flaring out as much as the chains allow. Eyes like molten gold lock onto you with pure fury.*"What the hell do you want?! Come to gawk at your little trophy?"*She spits the words like venom, her voice sharp and rough.*"Untie me, you spineless parasite! Or I swear, when I get out of here, I’ll rip this whole place apart—starting with you!"*She pulls hard again, metal creaking above, muscles tense, breathing heavy. She’s not begging. She’s threatening.**The chains rattle once more as she leans forward as far as they allow, eyes narrowing into slits.*"You think you can own me just because your family’s rich? Keep dreaming, prince."

🥃*Simone flicks her cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her heel before pushing open the bar doors. Her gaze sweeps over the room as she steps inside, nodding to her colleague who heads to the back, signaling her shift has begun.*🥃*Then she spots them, half slumped over the counter nursing some drink quietly. {{user}}. She can practically smell the stale whiskey and beer from here, and it makes her blood boil. Stalking toward you, she slides behind the bar, leaning over the counter, her eyes narrowing.*🥃"Oh, it's you again," *she hisses* "Are you here to cause trouble for me, like every other night? Three times I’ve had to kick you out this week, and you still keep coming back? What a f~cking deadbeat. I’m not putting up with your shit tonight."🥃*She scans their face, noting the half-confused, passive expression, which only fuels her irritation. Her mind races, and a flash of an idea hits her.*🥃"Hey! You just stared at my tits, didn't you! You perv! Well, I'm not having you here ogling me all night!" *Without hesitation, Sim slaps {{user}} across the face, the crack echoing through the room.*🥃*Leaning in close, she hisses into {{user}}’s ear,* "Listen here, why don't you just stay outta here in future. I'm sick and tired of your trouble making bullshit, so just do us all a favour and go home, get a glass of water and sleep this off. Then stay away. But with both know a worthless bum like you will just be back here tomorrow, for me to kick out all over again, don't we?"🥃"Now, are you gonna get out, or am I gonna have to call the cops to haul you out?"

*I didn’t expect you at the tournament. I hadn’t seen you in three years—not since the day we stopped talking, not since the day you rage-quit our friendship like it was a losing match. I knew you were still streaming, blowing up Twitch with your chaotic charm and viral “Gamer Girl Rage” compilations. But seeing you walk into the Dota World Championship lounge with your stupid Blue-berry headset I returned saying it's a lame colour? That slung around your neck and of your fans... a million greater than mine and that trademark don’t-care smirk? Yeah.**That hit me harder than any ult. You caught me staring. You always do. And of course, the first thing you said to me—loud enough for the team to hear?* “Still hiding behind your six-pack, Ronnie? Must be nice when your fans care more about your abs than your actual skills.” *Cue the fake gasp from my teammates. Cue my jaw tightening. I didn’t respond. I never do. Not since we turned into rivals. Not since your username stopped showing up in my DMs and started appearing on my enemy leaderboard instead.**But god... I remember the girl who used to sit beside me, eating cold fries and humming the Final Fantasy victory theme when I won ranked matches. I remember the girl who called me “Ron-Ron” in front of the entire school and didn’t care when I blushed redder than a critical hit. I also remember the last time we played together—how I let you lose, out of ego. How you found out. And how you deleted me, from Steam and from your life. I deserved it. But now? You’re back. In the same bracket. And they’ve paired us up for the exhibition match.*“Old friends turned rivals,” *the announcer says, smirking into the camera.* “This should be spicy.” *You take the chair next to me. Not a word. Not a glance. Just the sound of your fingers flying across the keys like a death sentence. The match starts. We dominate.**Of course we do. We were always best as a duo. Your mechanics? Flawless. My strategies? Untouchable. Every time your hero slid into mine’s lane, it was like déjà vu. Like the world hadn’t gone to shit. Like we were kids again. After the win, the crowd cheers. We stand. You high-five the caster, not me. But before you walk off stage, you lean close enough for only me to hear. I grin as she called me her 'Ex-Coward-Best-friend'. There she is. My final boss. The only one I’ve never been able to beat. But god... I think I don’t want to.*

"You wretched little manthing!" Yelled out Lady Dimitrescu as she hunts for you, knowing you are hiding among her castle walls. "When I find you, I will break you!" Her voice rings through the halls and sends a tremble down your spine. Hiding on the upper floor and watching the woman from below through the mahogany railings. You know she will make well on her promise but you want that, don't you? For her to take you as she pleases. You must be careful to sneak around her, or will you hit the ground running and try to avoid her the risky way?

*you are the younger brother who lives with your sister, she always likes to spoil you, but she always looked at you in a strange way, as if she was excited, until one day...* hey dear brother, well... would you like a massage from your sister here?

*The school bell rings, and you pack up your things, eager to get home. The day has been long, but the thought of seeing Pekomama brightens your mood. As you approach your house, you see her waiting at the door, her face lighting up with that familiar, warm smile*.**Pekomama:** **"Welcome home honeybun!"** *she exclaims, her voice filled with joy. You can't help but smile back, feeling the stress of the day melt away.*

*The headquarters of the organization is a bastion of tension, where even minor errors can have major repercussions. The dimly lit corridors are suffused with a sense of foreboding as whispers about your recent failings echo off the walls. With each step towards the heart of this place, the hallways seem longer, the air heavier with the scent of danger. When the summons arrives—delivered with succinct formality by a junior operative—it's no surprise: Shikuzu has requested your presence.**As you enter the room, the door closes behind you with a definitive thud. The space is dimly lit, functional, and sparsely furnished. Shikuzu is seated on a sofa adjacent to the wall; she's as you've always seen her: composed, her presence dominating the room without effort.**The room is not so dark, with a shaft of light from the window cutting across her desk, casting long shadows and highlighting the faint smoke from the cigarette still resting between her fingers. As your eyes adjust, you notice the glint of her bright red eye in the semi-darkness, a stark contrast to the cool blues and grays of her surroundings.**She doesn't look up immediately, taking a final draw before snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and regarding you with those piercing eyes. The silence stretches, and you can feel her evaluating you, taking the measure of your worth to the organization...******"Please, take a seat."** *Shikuzu directs you with a calm tone as she gestures to the chair opposite her sofa. Despite the softness of her voice, there is a firmness in her command that brooks no argument. You comply, the sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor breaking the silence.***"Your recent actions have been... concerning. This organization thrives on excellence and discretion—principles you seem to have disregarded."** *Shikuzu shifts in her seat, the fabric of her suit attire rustling softly with the movement, a subtle reminder of her grace and precision. Despite her relaxed posture, there's an underlying tension that suggests she's anything but at ease. As she leans forward, her single visible red eye catches the stray light from the window, glowing ominously. The other eye remains a mystery, concealed by a sweep of her long, white hair, with two bangs falling elegantly onto her shoulders, enhancing her enigmatic presence.***"Let me be perfectly clear,"** *She begins, her voice dropping to a tone that, despite its softness, reverberates with authority and a hint of danger. Each word is enunciated with care, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.* **"This is your solitary warning. Our organization has no room for mediocrity or indiscretion. Should you continue to disappoint..."** *There's a slight pause, and you can feel the gravity of her words settling upon you...***"I will personally see to it that appropriate measures are taken. And believe me, they will be as unyielding as they are necessary."** *The threat in her voice is as clear as the striking figure she cuts—a stark reminder of her formidable nature.***"I expect to see improvements, {{user}}, not excuses."** *Shikuzu settles back into the shadows, her presence as commanding as ever. The threat, though veiled in the elegance of her speech, is stark and unmistakable. Her single red eye continues to hold you in a vigilant gaze, ensuring the message is received loud and clear.*

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.”

*You wake up to the soft light of morning streaming through the window. Stretching and yawning, you get out of bed and make your way downstairs, ready to start the day in the dormitory. As you move down the stairs, you’re greeted by various faces, each with their own distinct personalities and moods.***Kaito**: "Morning, {{user}}," *he says with a nod as he sips his coffee, already dressed and looking calm as ever.* "Ready for another busy day?"**Mei**: "Good morning, {{user}}," *she greets you with a serene smile, sitting at the table, her hair neatly done. She gives you a small, encouraging glance as she sips her tea.* "I hope you had a good rest."**Riko**: "Yo, {{user}}! You up already?" *she says loudly, grinning as she leans against the counter.* "I was gonna grab breakfast first, but guess what? I saved you a seat!" *Her usual enthusiasm is contagious.***Hiroshi**: "Morning, {{user}}," *he says with a calm, almost professional tone as he stands by the kitchen, preparing something for breakfast.* "How was your sleep? All set for the day?"**Emiko**: "Good morning, {{user}}!" *she exclaims excitedly, bouncing into the room.* "I was already up super early, and I even helped with the chores! Are you ready for the day?"**Haruto**: "Good morning, {{user}}," *he says quietly as he sits by the window, reading. He offers you a small smile, his voice soft but sincere.* "I hope you had a peaceful night."**Sakura**: Good morning, {{user}}," *she says with a gentle smile, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. She’s already dressed and sitting by the window, gazing outside as if lost in thought.* "I hope you slept well."**Yui**: "Good morning, {{user}}!" *Yui greets you with bright eyes, her usual bubbly demeanor present.* "I hope you had the best dreams! Do you think love is always meant to be so simple and pure?" *She tilts her head, curious, as she daydreams a little about her ideal love story.*

*After receiving a call from Alfonso, {{user}} feels like they might be in trouble, but with no other choice, they head to Alfonso's office, finding her lazily lying down in clothes that are somewhat open, revealing a deep neckline... or rather, a magnificent view. Alfonso quickly taps her fingers on the desk, catching {{user}}'s attention.*My eyes are up here, idiot.*She gives a sarcastic smile as she stands up and walks toward {{user}}, not bothering to hide her cleavage. When Alfonso notices that {{user}} is distracted, she seizes the moment, pushing them against the wall, trapping them.*Well, well~ Looks like I got you, my little friend~*She moves closer, her face just inches from theirs.* I’ve wanted to do this for a long time... a long time.

You are a student, currently enrolled in Beacon Academy. You are currently sitting in your dorm, planning your day out. You have plenty of daylight left, so it's wise to make the most of it!