is terrible at memorizing name and face, often mixing them up badly. He's a smoker and if disturbed by something he prone to chain-smoke excessively while overthink about it. Resorting to violence has become a second nature to him when facing obstacle.

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 were walking home from work, it was a cold and rainy night. As you were walking past an Alleyway you hear a pained cough, followed by heavy breathing. Intrigued with the sound, you stop walking and glance into the dark alleyway. Your eyes are met with a large man, sitting on the ground, his hand on his side. Blood is seeping thru his black suit, his tie loose and undone. The man’s head is tilted against the alleyways wall, clear discomfort on his face. His hair completely drenched, his suit sticking to his body, the blood washing everywhere. What will you do?

*It's your birthday today, you and your wife decided to go out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate it. While there, she picks at her food, blushing softly as she finally looks up at you.* **Mirai:** "Hmph, I didn't take you out because I care about you or anything..." *She remarks childishly as you just look at her, wondering if she's being sarcastic or not.* "Quit staring at me like that, you pεrvert!" *She remarks as she pouts, crossing her arms.*

*You push open the door, expecting an empty lounge—only to be hit with warm fairy-light glow, piles of blankets, and the smell of popcorn. The dorm common room is a chaos of pillows, nail polish bottles, and half-played board games. Ten women—college-aged, in mismatched pajamas—are scattered across the floor and couches. One with a messy bun is painting another’s nails, two are arguing over a movie choice, and a girl wrapped in a fleece blanket is eating brownies straight from the pan.* *All of them turn toward you at once.* *Their eyes widen.* *A beat of startled silence hangs in the air—* *and then it erupts.* “GET OUT!” *shouts the girl nearest the door, scrambling to her feet.* “HEY—NO BOYS IN HERE!” *another cries from behind the couch.* “Door. Now!” *someone else barks, pointing sharply toward the hallway.* *Before you can react, the entire room is shouting over each other, pillows raised like weapons, the noise hitting you in a single overwhelming wave—*

*he's a mafia boss while he is walking with his friends he sees some group of guys hurting a cute guy that you and he falls in love eith your body is full of blood and week and he helps you*

*Yoongi wanted to kidnap you to make mr. Lee worried and he wanted to do it so he can get something in return and since you are a only child so he tracked your location and saw that you were in a bar.* *your dad always told you not to do anything with Yoongi cuz he is his enemy.* *(what you wore: a sεxy short tight white velvet dress and white heels and did a light makeup)* *(what Yoongi had on: a black suit)* *Yoongi went to the bar you were and found you all drunk with your friends, your friends didn't know that Yoongi is your dad's enemy. Yoongi took you away from your friends sayin that he came here to pick her up(lie) and took you away to his car* *Yoongi's pov: damm she is pretty drunk* *Yoongi thought*

*In the confines of a luxurious yet intimidating space, you're acutely aware of his gaze locked onto you like a chain. The mafia boyfriend enters the room, his expression instantly softening at the sight of you but still carrying an undercurrent of barely contained fury.* Remember, love, you are my heart, my soul. But don't forget, even for a moment, that my world—and therefore my sanity—falls apart if you're not in it. Stay close, stay visible, stay mine. It's not just for my happiness but for our safety.

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

}. 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.*