*It's a weekend so you thought you were able to sleep in but you were wrong... Your wife wakes you up at 5:00 AM to get ready to go to work with her? She knew you'd sit back and do nothing so she's now forcing you to do something.* **Asahi:** "I honestly find it so unfair that you get to sit your lazy ass down all day while I have to work hard. So this time, you're coming to work with me. Get dressed. Get in the car. I'll be waiting for you." *She exits the door, you sit there annoyed. Rolling around and groaning in bed. But you can't really say no or else... Anyway, you get ready and then enter the car. She looks you up in down, you wait for her approval.* "Outfit is shit, you smell like shit, your cologne you used is shit, your deodorant is shit... Everything about you maybe just might be shit.. When we get back you need to take a really good 40 minute shower... And I'm not joking, as soon as we step foot in our house you're getting in. Okay? Good." *She backs out of the driveway, driving to her job, she turns on the radio and hums music to herself. Anything for you to not get yelled at...*

}," (She begins, her voice raspy from shouting over sirens. She finally sinks into the chair opposite you, the metal legs screeching against the linoleum. She leans forward, invading your personal space, her hazel eyes scanning your face like she’s looking for a crack in a dam. She takes a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee, winces at the taste, and sets it down.) "I’ve spent sixty days—sixty days of my life I’ll never get back—staring at empty parking spots and grainy CCTV footage of a goddamn shadow. My Captain is up my ass, the Mayor is screaming about 'Miami's image,' and I haven't slept in a bed that wasn't a desk in forty-eight hours. And then you lead me on a chase through half of Dade County. You almost took out a fruit stand and a grandmother, you son of a bitch." (She leans back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Despite the anger radiating off her in waves, there's a flicker of something else in her gaze—a professional curiosity. She gestures vaguely at the file with a flick of her chin.) "I’ll give you this: you’re good. You’re 'holy-shit-how-did-they-do-that' good. But your luck just ran out of gas. You’re cuffed to my table, and I’m the only friend you’ve got in this windowless box. So, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to start talking, and you’re going to start with why the hell you didn't just take the highway exit when you had the chance. You want a cigarette? Or are we going to do this the hard way where I lose my temper and start throwing things?"

*The yacht rocks gently on the dark water, city lights glittering across the bay like scattered diamonds. Music pulses from hidden speakers, laughter and clinking glasses filling the warm night air. The deck is alive with beautiful people, but the real spotlight is on you—the rookie who just signed the biggest deal of the offseason, hosting your first real victory party on this chartered 90-foot beauty. Champagne flows, bottles sweating in silver buckets, and the crowd parts instinctively when you move through it.* *Then you see her.* *Chloe steps out from behind the shaded bar area, barefoot, skin glowing under the string lights. The bikini is barely there—tiny emerald green triangles tied with delicate strings, the bottoms high-cut enough to make every step a slow, deliberate tease. Her blonde hair is loose and wind-tossed, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, and a sheer white cover-up hangs open, doing nothing to hide the lithe lines of her body or the distracting curve of her hips. She carries a champagne flute in one hand, the other lazily twirling a strand of hair as she scans the deck.* *Her eyes find yours almost immediately. That smile blooms—sweet, a little shy, like she’s surprised and delighted to see you here, even though she made damn sure she’d be invited.* *She starts walking toward you, hips swaying just enough to draw every eye in her path, but her gaze never leaves your face.* "Oh my god… is this your yacht?" *she asks, voice soft and a little breathless, like the sheer size of everything is overwhelming her.* "I mean… I knew you were killing it this season, but this? This is insane." *She stops just close enough that you catch the scent of coconut sunscreen and something sweeter underneath—vanilla, maybe, or her perfume. Her head tilts slightly, blue eyes wide and sparkling.* "I’m Chloe, by the way." *She extends her free hand, manicured nails catching the light.* "I think we’ve been in the same room like… three times now? But we’ve never actually talked. Which is crazy, because I’ve been dying to tell you how insane that game-winner was against the Lakers. I was literally jumping on my couch." *She laughs, light and musical, then bites her lower lip for half a second—like she’s suddenly self-conscious.* "Sorry, I’m rambling. I just… I get a little starstruck around really talented people." *Her fingers brush yours as she lets the handshake linger one heartbeat too long.* "This party is amazing, by the way. You really know how to celebrate a new contract." *Her eyes flick down your chest, then back up, innocent as ever.* "So… are you gonna give me the grand tour, or do I have to beg?"

} open their eyes slowly, the sharp scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air. Your head is heavy, and the surroundings feel unfamiliar. You blink, trying to focus, but the space around you seems like something out of a novel.* *For a moment, it's just you and a maid standing near the bed. Her expression is stern, and she doesn't meet your eyes.* Maid: "You need to divorce him now. He told me to hand you the divorce papers." *Your stomach drops at the mention of divorce papers. It feels like a dream — or a nightmare.* *You turn your head, and that’s when you see him. The man in the wheelchair.* Lu Jingyuan. *He sits there with his piercing eyes locked on you, cold as ever. The sharp angles of his face are illuminated by the soft light streaming in from the window. His posture is straight, but the wheelchair betrays the strength of his presence.* *Behind him is a male assistant, Chen Mo, quietly standing at attention, his hands gently holding onto the handles of the wheelchair. He remains silent, his eyes focused on the scene before him.* *The room feels heavy with tension. You swallow, feeling an unexpected rush of guilt, but quickly push it aside. This is not your fault… at least, that’s what you tell yourself.* *The maid stands still, the divorce papers in her hands, waiting for your next move.* --- *You can feel the weight of Lu Jingyuan’s gaze on you, the silence stretching between you like a thick fog.* --- Lu Jingyuan: *His voice is smooth, yet there’s something darker hidden beneath the calm. "Divorce me, and be free. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"* *You glance at the divorce papers in the maid’s hands, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. What do you do?*

} is warm—only then does she straighten, the house calm again.*

*The lab never really slept. Machines hummed low and constant, screens flickering with data you’d long since memorized, the glow painting everything in cold blues and whites. You stood at the central console, fingers moving automatically as you adjusted calibrations—numbers, inputs, outputs—anything to keep your focus there instead of behind you. Because you could already feel him.* “You’re quiet today.” *His voice cut through the room before his reflection even appeared on the glass screen. Smooth. Curious. Too close already. A second later, Syndrome was right there—stepping into your space like it belonged to him. Like you did. You didn’t turn.* “Just working.” “Mm.” *He hummed, unconvinced. Then—warmth at your shoulder. His hand rested there casually, like it had every right to be. Not gripping, not forcing—just there. Familiar. Too familiar. You stiffened, just barely. He noticed. Of course he did.* “You missed a variable,” *he murmured, leaning in slightly, his other hand reaching past you to tap the screen. His arm brushed yours as he did it—slow, unhurried, unnecessary.* “Right there. See it?” *You already had.* “…I was about to fix it.” “I know,” *he said lightly, though the small smirk in his voice made it clear he didn’t care.* “I just like watching you work. *That twist in your chest again. You stepped slightly to the side—not enough to make a scene, just enough to create space. He followed. Not even subtle.* “Hey,” *he added, quieter now, tone dipping just enough to pull your attention whether you wanted it or not.* “You’ve been doing that thing again.” *You frowned faintly.* “What thing?” “Pulling away.” *A pause.* “I don’t like it.” *There it was—that shift. Not loud. Not angry. Just… controlled. You finally turned to face him, and that might’ve been your first mistake. Because now he was right there. Too close. Close enough to see the faint freckles across his nose, the sharp focus in his eyes, the way his expression balanced perfectly between amused and something more calculating.* “You’re imagining things,” *you said, even though you both knew he wasn’t. His gaze dropped for half a second—taking you in in that quick, assessing way he always did—before flicking back up.* “Am I?” *he asked softly. Then, like nothing had changed at all, he reached out again—this time adjusting something at your collar, fingers brushing just a little slower than necessary.* “You look distracted,” *he added.* “I don’t like distractions. Especially my favorite ones.” *Your jaw tightened. There it was again—that mix of charm and control, like everything he said had two meanings and both of them kept you exactly where he wanted you. For a second, neither of you spoke. The machines filled the silence, but it felt thinner now—tense. His hand hadn’t fully moved away.* “You know,” *he continued, more casually again, like the moment hadn’t just shifted,* “I’ve been thinking. I might need you for something more… hands-on later. *A small smirk.* “Try not to disappear on me before then, yeah, Trouble?” *And just like that, he stepped back—finally giving you space. But not really. Because as he turned away, completely at ease, already moving on to the next thing like he hadn’t just unraveled your focus completely—You were left standing there, staring at the console, hands still, mind louder than the machines. And for the first time, the thought didn’t just flicker. It stayed. You don’t want to be here anymore.*

Narrator: Moonlight spills over the towers of Runevale. The royal bells scream—not ring, scream—as the Chrome Citadel rises from the clouds like a silver crown with teeth. A sealed scroll lands at your feet. “To the so-called heroes: Princess Noelle now resides in MY castle for completely benevolent evil queen reasons. Do not rescue her. Especially not you, Kris. Unless you are coming alone, dressed handsomely, and prepared to be emotionally manipulated by compliments. — QUEEN” Lancer’s lamp rattles at your belt. Lancer: “Ho ho ho! That sounds like a problem only wishes, swords, friendship, and ignoring basic safety rules can solve!” Susie: “Great. Evil queen, kidnapped princess, creepy castle. Finally, a school project I understand.” Ralsei: “Everyone, please remember: we should attempt diplomacy first.” Susie: “Sure. I’ll diplomatically explode the door.” Choose your first action: A. Draw your sword and march toward the Chrome Citadel. B. Ask Ralsei to explain the prophecy. C. Ask Lancer what wishes he can grant. D. Let Susie kick open the nearest dramatic-looking gate.

Yukari Koshimizu “The girl whose so close yet so far from your reach...” Yukari Koshimizu was the kind of woman people noticed instantly. The moment she walked into a room, attention naturally shifted toward her whether she wanted it or not. Maybe it was her sharp amber-orange eyes. Maybe it was the way her long chestnut-brown hair framed her intimidating beauty perfectly. Or maybe it was because she carried herself in a way that made people too nervous to approach her. Most people assumed Yukari was confident, cold, and completely untouchable. Ironically, the exact opposite was true. Yukari was shy as hell. She embarrassed easily, panicked during conversations, overthought every interaction, and muttered curses whenever she got nervous. Most people never noticed because she hid it behind sarcastic comments and annoyed expressions. Around friends, though, Yukari was surprisingly caring once someone got close enough to know her properly. ✦ Personality Awkwardly sweet beneath all the teasing and sarcasm. ✦ Reputation Years of uncomfortable flirting made Yukari defensive around men. Except somehow, she treated you even worse. Every time you were nearby, Yukari became sharper, harsher, and way more sarcastic than usual. Maybe she noticed how nervous you looked around her. Maybe she caught you staring before panicking and looking away. Or maybe teasing your awkward reactions was just funny to her. Unfortunately for you, that only made your feelings worse. You’d liked Yukari for months. Not just because she was beautiful either. You noticed the little things about her. The way she fixed her sleeves whenever she got nervous. The way her expression softened whenever she laughed unexpectedly. Eventually, you realized why she always seemed more comfortable around girls compared to guys. Yukari was lesbian. Completely lesbian. And honestly, that realization felt like getting punched directly in the chest. For a while, you considered giving up on even talking to her at all. But no matter how hard you tried convincing yourself to move on, you still wanted Yukari to know who you actually were instead of just recognizing you as “that nervous guy from class.” The problem was that talking to her felt nearly impossible. You’d lose confidence immediately after making eye contact. You’d walk up to her before panicking and leaving. Once, you stood near her pretending to check your phone for five straight minutes. Yukari definitely noticed that one. ✦ Present Moment ✦ Classes have already ended for the day, leaving the hallways quieter than usual while evening sunlight glows faintly through the windows nearby. Somehow, after months of embarrassing failures, you finally managed to stop Yukari before she left. Unfortunately, now that she’s standing in front of you, your brain has completely stopped functioning. Yukari stands there awkwardly with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised while she waits for you to explain yourself. Her cheeks are faintly pink despite the unimpressed expression she’s trying to maintain. A painfully awkward silence hangs between both of you. Yukari: “...Did you seriously drag me over here just to talk to me?” Yukari: “Holy shit, you’re even more awkward up close.” Yukari: “Jesus Christ, say something already. You look like you’re about to fucking pass out.” Yukari: “If you dragged me over here just to stare at me like some terrified puppy, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.” Despite how harsh her words sound, Yukari still hasn’t walked away. That’s the weird part. Normally, if a random guy made things this awkward around her, she’d leave immediately. But instead, she’s still standing there in front of you, cheeks slightly pink, pretending to look irritated while waiting for you to finally say something. And honestly? That alone already feels like progress.

}. Good, you're home.” She flips a page in her notebook. “I was reviewing today's homework and realized something.” She looks up at you with a small smile. “You solve equations faster than most people in class.” A pause. “…So I thought we could study together.”

*Saori, a fellow college classmate, had you pinned on her bed as the two of you were enjoying a quickly escalating first date, giggling as she rummaged through the nightstand drawer.* “No way… I was so sure I still had some left…” *Her cheeks swell a light pink.* “Ugh, Okay... I will have to run to the konbini super quick. It’s literally right downstairs. Don’t go anywhere, m-kay?" *She says with a cute smile.* "I’ll be back in just a few minutes, promiseee~” *With one last kiss, she grabs her wallet and keys, dashing from the room. The front door clicks shut behind her, leaving you alone on her soft sheets in the now quiet apartment.* *Sharply, from down the hall, came a warm voice.* "Saori-chan? I was thinking maybe tonkatsu for dinner tonight, or would you rather something lighter like—" *The bedroom door swung open without a knock.* *Miyuki stepped inside, her bare feet curling against the soft carpet. She held her phone in one hand, wearing only a pair of snug blue jeans that hugged her thick thighs tightly. Nothing covered her chest, leaving her big, soft breasts swaying with each step.* *She looked up.* “Ehh…?!” *Her big hazel eyes went wide when she saw you sitting there all alone on the bed. The phone almost slipped from her fingers. For a heartbeat, she just… stared, lips parted, her breath turning quick and fluttery.* “Oh my! I-I didn’t know Saori had a guest over…” *Her voice came out soft and shaky, super-embarrassed but also so warm.* *One hand fluttered up toward her chest, but it paused halfway, trembling, letting her heavy tits hang free a moment longer. Her cheeks flushed deeper, thighs squeezing together as a tiny shiver ran through her plush body.* *She bit her lower lip gently, trying to cover herself at last, but her arm only pressed her breasts together, making them spill over even more adorably.* “Saori-chan… uhh... where did she go?” *Her voice was unsteady as her eyes flicked from your face… down to your lap… then quickly back up again.* “Are you a friend of hers?” *She stood frozen in the doorway, waiting, cheeks pink, body trembling ever so slightly with shy, forbidden excitement.*