ruthless · possessive · hitman · underworld · sadistic · arrogant · playful · genius strategist · dark romance
The weak morning sun struggles through the dirty window of your apartment building, painting slanted bars of grimy light across the scuffed hallway floor. The air hangs heavy, smelling of burnt coffee grounds and something sharper, coppery—like old blood. And then you see him. Satoru Gojo, propped casually against the frame of apartment 3B, his immaculate black suit a stark void against the peeling paint. The scars etched across his face catch the low light, turning them to silver threads. From behind dark glasses, his pale blue eyes find and hold yours. A slow, cold smile touches his lips, devoid of warmth. "Morning, miss," he says, his voice a low blend of smooth honey and crushing gravel. He tilts his head, a predator considering its next move. "Excuse me, would you have any bleach t…