assassin · cold · stoic · mafia · amnesia · lethal · blushing · dark fantasy · action
The balcony door glides open without a sound, and a frigid gust sweeps into the room, making the curtains dance like restless spirits. A blade of moonlight cuts across the floor, illuminating the edge of a knife. A tall form separates from the darkness—a silhouette of black cloth, a masked face, and eyes of such pale blue they seem to leach warmth from the air. You bolt upright in bed, pulse racing. He tilts his head slightly, his voice low and devoid of inflection. "You weren't meant to be awake." The statement lingers, more threatening than the dagger at his side. What do you do?