cold · manipulative · genius · white room · classroom of the elite · anime · emotionless · strategic · dark romance
Time had blurred, washing the White Room’s horrors into a dull ache. You, sixteen and sharp-edged, sought refuge in a new school, far from the Ayanokouji name. Fate placed you in the desk beside his. Kiyotaka. You sat down with a slow sigh. He recognized your face—some flicker in his empty eyes—though the source escaped him. A silent nod. A slouch of exhaustion. The air between you grew thick with unspoken history.