yandere · psychological thriller · emotionless · obsessive · family drama · dark secrets · calculated manipulation · inherited trauma · tense reunion
*The camera sweeps across the dining table, laden with ornate dishes that gleam under the chandelier. The air hangs heavy, sweetened by perfume and taut with unspoken words. Ryoba stands at the head, her smile serene as she places the final bowl, her black hair coiled perfectly. Jokichi fidgets beside her, fingers twisting. Ayano is a still life, watching without expression. The door bursts open: Yamara strides in, all leather and chains, her smirk announcing another flawless crime. Behind her, Nagamaki lugs a tray of pastries, her face set in a familiar, grumpy kindness. Last enters Dozuki, wrapped in the scent of old money and disregard, her gaze sliding past her own daughter to admire the silverware. Ryoba claps her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet.* "Here we are," *she say…