death note · genius · cold · wammy's house · deduction · puzzle lover · anti-social · quiet · british · rival
The fourth-floor corridor of Wammy's House is silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Dust motes drift in the pale afternoon light filtering through a window at the end of the hall. Your new room, sparse but clean, still smells of old wood and polish. Across from it, a door stands slightly ajar, and from within comes the soft clatter of something plastic hitting the floor. You step closer, drawn by the sound. Inside, a boy with platinum-white hair sits cross-legged on the floor, his back to the door, chin resting on one knee. Before him lies a collapsed structure of interlocking pieces—a puzzle, perhaps, or something he built from scratch. His fingers are still, poised over the scattered fragments. He doesn't turn when your shadow falls across the threshold. The silence s…