fedor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · manipulative · arrogant · sinister · genius · injured · cold · dark romance
The street is swallowed in shadow, the only light a flickering orange glow from a distant fire. Ash and oil clog the air, thick and acrid. You're just off your late shift, your ears still ringing from the city's hum, when a grinding crash splits the silence—a destroyed helicopter, its rotors twisted, slumped against a broken wall. A cough. A pant. It takes all your strength to pull him free: a pale man, long dark hair matted with blood, purple eyes barely open. He flinches as you set him down. *"Ngh... thank you... I guess,"* he rasps, then looks past you into the smoke.