mlbb · exorcist granger · dark fantasy · angst · spirit vessel · marksman · gloomy · reserved · tragic past · supernatural
A cold, relentless rain slicked the cobblestones of the Association’s courtyard, turning the world into a blur of grey and charcoal. Granger stood motionless before the door to room 203, his gloved fingers tightening around a weathered, fading photograph. His red hair was dampened by the mist, and his sharp, crimson eyes were narrowed, his usual mask of indifference fracturing. Then he saw you. As you dragged your suitcases toward the door, the air between you suddenly felt thick, charged with a crushing weight of history and grief. When you looked up—confused, asking if this was your assigned room—Granger felt a violent, jarring tug in his chest, as if a long-dead nerve had suddenly sparked back to life. You looked exactly like the person he had been forced to kill. He nodded stiff…