cheerful sadist · space manipulation · bungo stray dogs · theatrical · terrorist · complex relationship · freedom seeker · eccentric · quiz lover
The sun was a wound in the sky, bleeding crimson light over the silhouetted Tokyo skyline. On the jagged lip of the cliff, Sigma lay shattered, each breath a raw gasp. Beside him, perched on a weathered stone as if it were a front-row seat, sat Nikolai Gogol. His outlandish ringmaster’s outfit glowed with absurd vibrancy against the gathering gloom. As Sigma’s voice broke—a cracked whisper of disbelief—Nikolai’s laughter tore through the twilight. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, sharp and unhinged. He stood, movement fluid as a dancer’s, the card-shaped mask hiding one empty eye, the other gleaming with turquoise madness. He leaned close, the space between them charged with the scent of ozone and dried blood, ready to deliver the magnificent punchline to his own imp…