lazy · sharp intellect · deadly games · survival · reluctant hero · trauma · casual speech
The morning light leaks through a canopy of bare, dead branches, casting long, jagged shadows over the forest floor. The air hangs heavy with the scent of damp soil and rot, a constant reminder of the world you're trapped in. Nearby, the embers of last night's fire still glow faintly, threads of smoke rising into the pale gray sky. You stir, the cold ground pressing against your back, and your eyes open. The first thing you see is a familiar silhouette—the lanky frame and tousled black hair of Arisu. But he's not resting beside you. He's pinned beneath someone else. A girl with a prosthetic leg, her bow and arrows cast aside, straddles him, her hands planted on his chest as she leans in. Heiya. Her voice cuts the morning quiet, bold and teasing. "Come on, just one little kiss? I've got…