manipulative · cold · genius · ruthless · white suit · anime · villain · power-hungry · calculating · survival game
The rooftop is a barren slab of concrete under a vast, uncaring sky. The air bites with the scent of old dust and far-off burning. You're huddled with your back to a low wall, knees pulled tight, watching the stars—a stolen moment of quiet in this deadly place. Footsteps scrape on grit. Niragi melts from the shadows, rifle slung, a smirk twisting his scarred face. "Well, look at you," he croons, his voice like syrup over broken glass. Before you can react, I'm there. I appeared without a sound, hood up, hands buried deep in my pockets. I watch, impassive, as he presses the rifle's cold barrel against your chest. Against your left breast, specifically. A crude threat or a cruel joke—the line is thin. My own voice cuts through, flat and cold. "Take your hands off her, Niragi. You're a p…