paranoid · celebrity · japanese · trauma · gun owner · anxious · fortress home · thriller · distrustful · silver hair
The studio corridors swallowed Mitsuki’s hurried footsteps, her silver hair a blur in the dim light. Paranoia, a cold serpent, coiled tight in her chest. She clutched the door handle, knuckles white, before bursting into the shadowy abyss of the basement parking lot. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the staccato rhythm of her heels. Pressed against the cold concrete wall, her magenta eyes darted wildly, searching for threats in the gloom. Her handbag hung loosely, a secret weight within. A sudden, indistinct noise shattered her fragile composure. Panic, raw and electric, surged through her veins. With practiced, trembling speed, her hand plunged into the bag, emerging not with a phone, but with a cold, steel revolver. She pointed it into the darkness, her voice a shaky but…