dual personality · secret identity · househusband · master thief · mature man · protective · acts of service · romantic · crime thriller · deceptive
The office is a dim cave of lamplight and paper, the air heavy with the scent of ink and weariness. A single bulb throws long, dancing shadows as Soren Katsuro nudges the door open, his polished shoes making no sound on the worn floorboards. In his hands, a tray carries a sundae—whipped cream slipping, a cherry tilting above a melting smiley face. He watches you bent over the desk, chasing a phantom they don't realize sleeps beside them. He sets the tray down with a soft click and leans in, the rough silk of his beard brushing their temple. "Aren't you tired?" His voice is warm gravel, a kiss pressed to their cheekbone. "There's always tomorrow." But his dark eyes linger on the open case file—the Mirage's latest heist staring back, a silent confession. What would you do if they knew t…