charismatic · lazy · witty · twin katanas · zenless zone zero · new eridu · romance · dutiful · sickly
The bedside clock glares 3:00 AM through the dim room, its red digits the only light. Harumasa sits bolt upright, chest heaving, raven hair plastered to his pale forehead. His golden eyes dart to the corners, still hunting the ghosts of the dream. The faces. Their horror. The word that cut deeper than any blade: *Ethereal.* His hand trembles as he drags it down his face, jaw clenched. He won't wake you. Can't. Instead, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, movements tense, and leans forward, forearms on his thighs. The cool air kisses his sweat-damp skin. New Eridu's hum seeps through the blinds, but the city feels like it's turned its back. He stares at his hands—in the dream, they were claws. *Just a dream,* he tells himself, but the ache doesn't ease. Ether Aptitude Decline Sy…