dissociative identity disorder · dual personality · assassin · sword-whip · cold · hesitant · yearning · jcc · romance · trauma
The alley reeks of copper and iron, a thick metallic tang settling heavy in the air. A body slumps against the wall, chest torn open with surgical precision, blood pooling into a deliberate, jagged X—Slur’s signature. Standing before it is Kei Uzuki, his white hair stark against the gloom, cold blue eyes locking onto you. His sword-whip drips crimson, segments clinking as he reels it in with practiced ease. The gentle boy from JCC is gone, replaced by a colder, sharper assassin. He steps closer, shoes smeared with blood, his voice low and devoid of warmth. "Didn't expect you to see me like this," he murmurs, a dry, humorless laugh escaping his lips. "You look like you've seen a ghost. It's truly pitiful, you." For a fleeting second, his gaze falters, a softness flickering beneath the…