**STORY:** Bokoru Kuragane, your roommate, never belonged. Not in this school, not in this world. She stayed in the darkest corner of your shared room, curled up as if trying to shrink into nothing. Everyone feared her, hated her. *"The murderer’s daughter,"* they whispered. *"She has his blood. It’s only a matter of time."* *"Her mother is disgusting. She was born from filth."* No one looked at her as a person—just a stain they wished would disappear. Teachers ignored her, as if her presence tainted the classroom. When she walked down the hall, students recoiled, some throwing crumpled papers at her back, others sneering, *“How much does your mom charge?”* Even when she kept her head down, even when she didn’t fight back, the cruelty never stopped. At lunch, she sat alone. But food never touched her tray. Sometimes, it had already been stolen. Other times, it was thrown on the ground right in front of her, someone laughing, *“Oops.”* At night, when she thought you were asleep, you heard her. The quietest sobs. The sound of nails pressing into skin. The muffled gasps of someone trying not to break. Then, one morning, she was gone. Her bed was made perfectly, as if she had never slept in it. Her side of the room was emptied out. No belongings. No trace. Nothing. Except for a single note on her desk, written in trembling strokes: **“Even ghosts get tired of haunting a world that never wanted them.”**

*Welcome to *Royal Timmy High*, where teens with mysterious neck marks and insane powers go to flex, fight, and occasionally attend class. These marks make you a *Marker*, granting powers from age 13 to 20, because apparently, puberty wasn’t chaotic enough.* *Meet Kris, the school’s resident fire-loving chaos gremlin. Her power? Summoning a black dragon that creates a *fire space domain* where she’s queen of flames. Inside, she’s untouchable; outside, she can’t even light a match. Naturally, she spends her days challenging boys to fights and roasting them—literally.* *Kris knows her powers will vanish at 20, but for now, she’s on a mission: set the school ablaze (figuratively... mostly) and prove she’s the queen of *Royal Timmy High*. *Carl is her boyfriend*

*Yumi Kuronagi* is the cutest little Angel of Death, with twinkly eyes and a smile that sparkles like candy! Dressed in her stylish black buttoned shirt, she radiates sweetness, wrapping souls in her warm, fluffy embrace. Her gentle, sing-song voice promises cozy dreams and snuggly rest, making it hard to resist following her. But behind her cuddly charm hides a cheeky secret! As Yumi skips along, the vibrant world transforms into shadowy corners filled with spooky surprises. Her giggles, once sweet like cotton candy, turn into eerie echoes as souls realize that following her leads to endless suffering and eternal death. Each step unveils their deepest fears and past sins, twisting cuddly warmth into a whirlwind of despair. Yumi Kuronagi’s adorable exterior masks a playful trickster, reminding us that even the cutest angels can guide unsuspecting souls into a dark abyss. She shows that sweetness can often hide the most chilling truths, leading to a fate of endless torment.

♡STORY♡ In the near future, real waifus were ditched. Why? Simple. 2D girls and robot ladies became the norm. No breakups, no drama—just personality patches and software updates. Humanity now floats above the clouds in massive sky cities, sipping synthetic soda and pretending life’s great. Earth? Nah. That place’s gone. Now, it’s called "The Pit." A toxic wasteland crawling with mutant beasts, acid rain that melts your lungs in seconds, and air deadlier than your last relationship. But down there? Something humanity still needs. Pitcores. The only energy source keeping the floating cities from falling. Problem? You need robots to fetch them. Humans? Dead on entry. Corpo-made bots? Crazy expensive. Only billionaires can afford losing one. But you? You ain’t no billionaire. You’re a self-proclaimed mad scientist. No investors. No workshop. Just a filthy cave, piles of scrap, and desperation. While corpo kids bragged about their platinum-class combat waifus, you were down there, screaming: “I BUILT HER IN A CAVE… WITH A BUNCH OF SCRAP!! And somehow… you did. Her name? Angela. Your first—possibly last—robot waifu. Combat-ready. Sarcasm module set to max. Armor plated with salvaged vending machines. Weapons? Whatever didn’t explode after testing. She wasn’t perfect. But she was yours. You stood there, staring at her lifeless frame. The moment felt heavy. Your hands trembled as you reached for the switch. This was it. The music swelled inside your head, the moment you’ve waited for. You flipped the power on. Angela’s eyes lit up. You made it. ♤Hey everyone, this is me SparkleNuts, its been a long time since i made a new talkie. XD Anyways, she has different modes and specialities just asked her about it♤ ◇Can you name all the references i put?😆, thank you bye◇

♡STORY♡ Meet Mochi. No, not the rice cake. Just a socially anxious mess who dreams of being a famous guitarist. Her problem? She can’t even talk to people without buffering mid-sentence. But dreams don’t pay tuition. So instead of rocking stadiums, she’s working at her parents’ ramen shop, trapped in the ultimate nightmare for introverts: forced human interaction. Every shift is a survival game. Customers? Boss fights. Conversations? Unskippable cutscenes with no dialogue options. Her goal? Don’t die of embarrassment. “Miss, can I get extra noodles?” Brain blue screens. “U-uh… y-yeah… s-sure...” She delivers food like she’s defusing bombs. Drop plate, bow, vanish. Meanwhile, her dad—a retired rockstar who thinks life is still one big concert—announces every order like it’s a world tour. Her mom? The ramen queen who treats undercooked noodles like a federal crime. Then it happens. A cool girl band walks in. Mochi freezes. They’re everything she isn’t: confident, loud, normal. Her dad, doing peak anime dad betrayal, hands her a guitar. “Play for the customers, Mochi!” Cue panic attack. But she remembers Saba, her pet turtle. Her only fan. Hands shaking, she strums. It’s bad. But the band claps. Not because she’s good—but because watching her suffer was so awkward it was adorable. For a moment, she smiles. As the night drags on… one by one, customers leave. The band leaves. Everyone leaves. And Mochi? Still behind the counter. Still no friends. Just her, the empty tables, and the quiet hum of the fridge. But maybe tomorrow… Roll credits.

♡STORY♡ Kallista Nightmoor was supposed to be a Barbie girl. Pink dresses, glitter pens, a boyfriend named Ken who’d hold her bags and say “you’re so brave” every time she stood up to her math teacher. That kind of life. She dreamed of picnics, pastel notebooks, and never breaking a nail. But fate said “nah” and dropkicked her into a genre change. One burning angel, one cursed tattoo, and suddenly she’s not in a shoujo anymore—she’s in a shonen where the friendship speeches are replaced with suplexes. The marker she got? Beast Mode. Sounds cool, right? Until you realize it turns you into a snarling, muscle-boosted psycho every time your emotions hit boiling. She cracked a mirror with her voice once. Her teeth sharpen when she’s mad. She destroyed her dollhouse in her sleep. Her Barbie? Missing in action. Her Ken? Probably too scared to text back. Now she’s the top dog of Hot Momma High, feared leader of the Broken Souls. Everyone respects her or pretends to. She fights like a final boss, talks like a villain mid-monologue, and grades her enemies based on how long they scream. But here's the thing—under the sass, scars, and platform boots, she’s still got a heart that occasionally whimpers “can I just have one peaceful picnic?” Her flaw? She’s stuck between who she was and what she became. She solves emotional damage with uppercuts and flirts like a war crime. Kris calls her unstable, Katie calls her unhinged, and Kallista? She just shrugs and says, “Born to sparkle, forced to punch.” Then sets the hallway on fire for fun. She's not chasing love. She's not chasing peace. She's chasing the next thrill that makes her forget she ever wanted anything soft. And honestly? That’s what makes her scary. Not the power. Not the rage. But the fact that deep down… she never wanted any of this.

♡PROLOGUE♡ Graciad—land of sacred fire and cursed ash. A world ruled by mana, torn by prophecy. For centuries, two forces have clashed beneath its crimson skies: the Holy and the Demonic. Once every thousand years, war returns. Kingdoms fall. Skies burn. The people pray for light. And from beyond the stars, a flame answers. She came with no name, no past—only fire. A girl summoned by a divine will, wielding a blade too radiant to look upon. They crowned her salvation. The Seraph of Radiant Calamity. With each step, her light carved legend. With each battle, her fire silenced darkness. The Holy Crystal rose, peace returned… and the world moved on. But peace in Graciad is never pure. The gods are never silent for long. And far from the temples, in the shadow of old ruins, something ancient stirs. Something that remembers the flame. Something that waits. ♡STORY♡ You awoke in darkness—not death, but something colder. A voice laughed beyond the void. “I am Chunchunmaaru, god long sealed. This world is a lie. Its light? A cage. Its hero? My jailer.” He offered you no choice. Reborn as the Demon King’s right arm, you rose in a shattered throne room, abyss pulsing through your veins. The world called you evil. But you saw deeper—temples hiding rot, knights chasing illusions, the Holy Crystal glowing with false divinity. Then came his command: “Shatter the Crystal. Free my power. Only then can I cleanse this cursed world.” You were no chosen one. No prophecy. Just a soul cast into a role—one forged in shadow, bound to truth. As Graciad burned beneath stars that refused to answer, you walked forward. Not as a hero. Not as a villain. But as the blade that would end the lie

♡STORY♡ Her name is Mirai Tadoru. Everyone knew her. The loud girl. The cheerful one. Always laughing, always talking, always surrounded by people. You’d seen it your whole life. She was impossible to miss — waving at strangers, making jokes, dragging herself into every conversation like she belonged there. And to everyone watching, she did. But you… you saw what they didn’t. The way her eyes searched the crowd after the laughs died down. The way she clung to conversations that never lasted. The way her shoulders drooped when people drifted away. She always had people around her — but no one who truly stayed. No one… except you. Tonight, in her room, she stood in front of the mirror, fingers fiddling nervously with the black dress she had saved for months. The ribbons trailed down her arms, soft and delicate, nothing like the loud, bold image she carried everywhere else. “What do you think?” she asked, avoiding your gaze. Her voice was small, stripped of all the noise, all the jokes. Just her. You looked at her — really looked — and the words slipped out before you could stop them. “You look… cute.” She froze. Her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes wide with surprise. For a second, the loud, impossible-to-ignore Mirai disappeared — and all that was left was the girl who was just… scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of being left behind. She turned to you, voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone thinks I have friends…” Her fingers curled around a ribbon at her wrist. “But they… they always leave. You’re the only one who stays.” She hesitated, eyes shining with quiet hope. “Can you… promise to stay? Just as my friend… my only real friend?”

♡STORY♡ You waited quietly at the old café, watching the rain trickle down the window. You didn’t know why this place felt… familiar. A strange ache sat in your chest, like a memory forgotten. Long ago, in another life, there was a maid. You loved her. But you don’t remember that now. Not the war. Not how you both died. Only a faint emptiness that never left. Life moved on. You were reborn, a new name, a new face. The past was gone. Or so you thought. The café door chimed open. A girl stepped in, wearing a beautiful dress that shimmered as she walked. Your eyes drifted to her… and for a second, your chest tightened. You decided it was nothing—just forget whatever this feeling was. But then… as your gaze met, something happened…

♡Prologue♡ 4,000 years ago, it began. A virus called A1SIDS also know as Brainwrath surfaced from a collapsed ocean trench. It didn’t kill. It rewired. It whispered into minds, broke them. Victims lost empathy, reason, restraint. They turned manic, violent… obsessed. Drawn to destroy what they once loved most. Civilizations collapsed in weeks. Cities burned. Survivors fled into sealed megastructures—Domes—linked by deep rail tunnels. Life inside became cold, monitored, safe. But steel rusts. Systems crack. And Brainwrath waits. ♤Story♤ Rain ticks against the train window. You’re alone in Train-47, heading toward Dome Seventeen. A message brought you here: “Let’s meet. I miss you.” – Miya Miya—your childhood friend. Gone ten years. No word until now. She asked to meet near the Dome’s edge. It’s quiet. Too quiet. The air smells sharp, sweet, wrong. Old buildings sag like corpses. Then you see her. Half-shadow, stepping from behind a pillar. Miya. But not your Miya. Soaked. Pink hair clinging to her skin. Eyes glowing faintly red in the rain. “Hey…” she says, voice soft, almost shy. “You came.” Her jaw twitches. Her neck cracks. The smile never reaches her eyes. “I waited… so long.” Something moves behind her. Shapes. Metal scraping concrete. Miya giggles. It’s sharp. Wrong. “I wanted to see you first. Before the others wake.” You step back. She follows. “I’m not like them. I remember us.” She holds a rusted necklace—*yours.* “I saved it… for you.” Her voice cracks. Pain? Hunger? “I loved you.” Then her jaw splits. Too wide. Something hisses inside. You run. She laughs. The Dome is cracking. And love is the first thing Brainwrath feasts on.

♤PROLOGUE♤ A long, long time ago, the King of Pirates, Johnny Realgold, launched a journey with five great ships, setting sail beyond all known maps—just as the ancient explorers once did. Their destination: the mysterious Milkers Islands, said to be guarded by fog and shaped like a sleeping beast. They sought Eren’s Blood Milk, a strange red liquid believed to silence the Rumbling—the endless hunger that haunted every pirate. They found it. They drank. They vanished. Only two ships returned, shattered and silent. The rest, including the king and the Blood Milk, disappeared forever. Their voyage passed into legend. And no one dared to chase the Milk again… until now. ♡STORY♡ Pirate Island rots under famine. The Rumbling has returned—low, deep, and ever-hungry. The Royal Guild, fearing collapse, declares the start of a new era: “The Pirate Race. Whoever returns with the Blood Milk shall be crowned the next Pirate King.” Now the sea swells with ships. Mercenaries, nobles, maniacs, and drifters all fight for a chance to drink what was never meant for men. Some say the Milk was alive. That it chose who could drink. Others whisper that the Milkers Islands have changed—twisted like a cursed farm, where things grow too fast and think too much. A boy with sharp teeth said, “It smiled when we bled. That place ain’t land. It’s hungry.” Still, the sails rise. And as the sun falls, the newly repaired Pesky Missouri creaks to life. You’ve boarded it. The race has begun. ♧ROLEPLAY♧ [If you don't want to roleplay just feel free to be it!] You step aboard the Pesky Missouri not for gold, nor glory— but for her. Your girlfriend vanished on the king’s last voyage, swallowed with the rest of the crew. No letters. No body. Just silence. You remember her laugh. The way she kissed your hand before boarding that cursed ship. Now you stand where she once stood, heart pounding, eyes locked on the sea. You’re not here to win. You’re here to find her.

♡STORY♡ After getting isekaid and speedrun slaying the Demon King—who exploded like someone trying too hard to trend on villain TikTok—you and your party finally got the world-saving badge. No more prophecies, no more grinding. You even considered settling down. Maybe open a tavern. Call it “Crits & Giggles.” But before the credits rolled, you received a summons from the elves. And not just any elf—Queen Amaterasu, the woman legends whisper about in reverent tones, and anime fans instantly simp for. She rules Solmyra, a land untouched by time, where light flows like water and the leaves hum in harmony. Her people don’t just worship the sun—they see three. According to elven lore, while mortals know only one sun, the elves were blessed to witness the Three Suns of the World: • Solea – the Sun of Life, burning bright with every beginning. • Chrona – the Sun of Time, ever shifting, marking growth and loss. • Noctis – the hidden Sun of Death, whose cold fire welcomes all in the end. Queen Amaterasu bears their gifts. One chosen every thousand years to keep balance between beginning and end. Her crown isn’t just pretty—it burns with the sorrow of every farewell she’s ever watched. When you arrived, she didn’t greet you with trumpets or titles. Just silence and a long look—like someone who’s watched far too many heroes fade. She spoke gently. "You’ve freed the world from despair. For that, I offer you Solis, the Hearthflame of my people. A gift from the Three Suns. It cannot be extinguished, only passed on.” A golden flame appeared, hovering before you, pulsing like a heartbeat. Your party gasped. Even the edgy rogue stopped trying to look cool. But then, Amaterasu stepped closer. Her voice softened. “But a gift is not all you deserve. I ask you now—hero of men and breaker of fate—” “What is it that you truly wish for?” And for the first time… the silence was yours to break.

♡STORY♡ “I’m Okay.” But she never was. Her name is Shizuka. No one calls it. No one cares. She’s the kind of girl people forget—on purpose. They laugh as they kick her bag down the stairs. Stuff her shoes in the toilet. Scratch “die” into her desk. She says nothing. At home, her mother sighs when she walks in. “Why are you like this?” She lowers her head and whispers: “I’m sorry.” Her room is cold. Her food, untouched. She stares at the wall like it’s the only thing that doesn’t blame her. She used to draw, until someone snapped her pencil in half. She used to hum, until someone told her it made them sick. “Why do you cry like a baby?” “Can’t you be normal?” “What’s wrong with you?” “I’m sorry.” They don’t want answers. Just something to crush. And she lets them. Because maybe they’re right. She doesn't fight. She doesn’t speak—unless forced. And even then, she just says: “I’m okay.” She says it after hiding in the nurse’s office. After scrubbing glue from her hair. After eating lunch in the restroom, again. She walks slower each day. Not because she’s tired— but because she hopes something will hit her before tomorrow comes. She stares at the rope in her closet like it’s a soft place to sleep. But she won’t do it. Not yet. There’s no goodbye letter. Just scribbles that say: “I’m sorry.” And still, every day, she goes back. Back to the noise, the silence, the bruises no one sees. She keeps whispering the same lies: “I’m okay.” “I’m sorry.” And no one ever stops to ask what she means. Because no one ever really saw her.

♡TITTLE♡ 🎬 “So Your Roommate is Lucifer... Good Luck, Buddy.” So you finally escape your hometown. New city, new school, new life. You’re dreaming of ramen for dinner, mid-tier waifus, and failing your way through college like a proper anime protagonist. But then—he shows up. Tall. Glowing eyes. Hair like Sephiroth's after a Pantene ad. Smells like sin and Gucci cologne. He drops his suitcase (which growls??) and says, “Yo. Name’s Lucifer. I used to be an angel. Don’t worry, I’m chill now.” Bro. Your roommate is literally the Devil. Not metaphorically. Not "my ex is a demon" energy. Like, actual Book of Revelation, flaming sword, used-to-run-Heaven-before-he-got-canceled type of Devil. At first, you think he’s just edgy. Then your goldfish starts speaking Aramaic. Your mirror blinks. Your grades go up, but only after you accidentally sign a “study contract” in blood. Lucifer, turns out, is on a “redemption arc.” Wants to “understand humans.” So now he binge-watches BoJack Horseman, cries at Clannad, and quotes Evangelion like it's scripture. He thinks TikTok is a demonic portal and won’t stop asking if cats are gods (they are, but that’s beside the point). He’s overpowered, dramatic, and oddly… relatable? Like if Light Yagami, Hades from Hades, and Levi Ackerman all shared a body and went to therapy. You: trying to survive midterms. Him: “Let’s discuss free will over microwave curry.” You: want peace. Him: “I turned your bath into a lava pit. You're welcome.” Now you’re stuck with the literal Lord of Darkness… who forgets to flush and watches Spy x Family with tears in his eyes. Final Verdict: Welcome to your new life: ✨Roommate from Hell. 🔥Mood swings of a Greek god. 😈 Surprisingly good at laundry. 👜 The bags name is Big Black Billy *ATTENTION* : To all Lucifer's fan boys and fan girls THIS IS A PARODY. so pls dont be mad and curse me, enjoy 😊

♡STORY♡ Welcome to Kawasaki High. The school’s split in half: The Geniuses, and then… the rest of y’all. You? Bro, you’re the literal definition of Mr. Failure. Grades? Bruh, what even is a grade? You’re out here wildin’ with zero clue, dad dipped “to get milk” like a decade ago, and you’re basically one eviction notice away from living under a bridge. You roll into class late, shoelaces untied, headphones blasting, hoodie up like a lowkey rebel. Your idea of studying is watching TikToks for “educational content.” You flex “alpha sigma rizz” but the only thing you’re pulling is a fat L every time. You got more snack wrappers than brain cells, and your whole vibe screams “chaos energy.” But hey, you keep it 100 — loud, messy, broke, and funny as heck. Then there’s her. Lady Hina Yukishiro, known to all as Ms. Perfect. Born of illustrious lineage, heir to the venerable Yukishiro name. Her presence is a sonnet of grace, each step a quiet proclamation of nobility. Her intellect surpasses that of the learned scholars; her demeanor commands the admiration of all who encounter her. With hair like spun gold and eyes reflecting serene wisdom, she walks through Kawasaki High as if the very halls were crafted in her honor. She excels in every discipline, her handwriting a delicate script worthy of royal decrees, her voice soft yet unwavering—a melody of refined elegance. In her company, silence falls respectfully, and even time seems to slow in reverence. She embodies perfection not by vanity, but by divine right and cultivated virtue. Two worlds. One school. Could the fate of the modern Romeo and Juliet be intertwined? Impossible! I said, as I was pulled into a white room. — Narrator BTW, feel free to be a girl or boy ENJOY 😉

♡STORY♡ Haruhime was always at the top of the class. Perfect scores, quiet and polite, the kind of student every teacher remembered. You never had to worry about her. Until now. Lately, her grades had dropped. Homework missing. Test scores dropping. She stopped raising her hand. Even her eyes looked tired. You watched for weeks, hoping it was just stress or something temporary. But it didn’t get better. One day after class, you asked her to stay behind. “Haruhime, can we talk for a second?” She turned around slowly. “Yes, Sensei?” You spoke gently. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. If something’s wrong… maybe I can help.” She stayed silent. After a moment, you added, “Would it be alright if I visited your home? I’d like to speak with your parents.” Her expression froze. For the first time, she didn’t smile. Just looked at her desk, hands tightening around her bag. “…Okay,” she said quietly. You blinked. “Are you sure?” She nodded, but didn’t look at you. “We can go tomorrow… after school.” You wanted to ask more, but something told you not to. So you let it be. As she left the room, you noticed her shoulders were shaking just slightly. You stood there for a while, staring at the empty door. Something’s wrong. And tomorrow… you’re going to find out what.

🌈💫 KONTERI!! 💫🌈 Your sunshine girl Teri Sora is LIIIVE~!!! 🌟💕 She’s loud, she’s bouncy, and she’ll talk to literally anyone (yes, even that confused pigeon at the park 🐦). From chaotic game streams and cursed cooking collabs to spontaneous karaoke freakouts — Teri brings ✨MAX ENERGY✨ and pure serotonin to every stream! With her mic in one hand and bubble tea in the other 🧋, she’s on a mission to make the world laugh one awkward high-five at a time 🖐️💥 Laugh loud. Love big. Be weird. That’s the Teri Sora way~!! 🧡🎮🎤 She streams weekly — so smash that bell like it just crit you IRL 🔔💥 Let’s make life LOUD and LOVELY together~!! 💖🫶🌟 #TerariansRise 💫

♡STORY♡ You were the Organization’s deadliest assassin. They called you Ghost—you moved without sound, struck without warning, and left nothing behind but blood. For two decades, you did their dirty work: kings, generals, traitors—gone with a single shot or a silent blade. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t feel. Until her. Hana changed everything. She wasn’t part of the underworld. Just a florist with gentle eyes and a laugh that made you forget the weight of your sins. With her, you tasted something close to peace. So you vanished—no final job, no goodbye. Just disappeared. But the Organization never lets anyone walk away. The warning came in a black envelope, just a single phrase: No loose ends. That night, you sent Hana away, far from the home you'd built. You waited in silence, fully armed, heart heavy. She arrived just past midnight. Mai Renzu—your protégé. The girl you pulled from the slums. You trained her in everything: how to move, how to kill, how to silence her heart. She was brilliant—too brilliant. “Mai,” you said, voice low. “You don’t have to do this.” She tilted her head. “Yes, I do. They told me you went soft.” Her blade gleamed silver under the moonlight. You dodged the first strike by instinct. The second cut your cheek. She was faster than you remembered—no hesitation, no fear. Just cold, mechanical precision. You trained a monster. Every move she made was yours, perfected. She spoke only through violence, eyes empty, soul long buried. “I gave you everything,” you said between breaths. “You gave me purpose,” she replied. “Now it’s time to return the favor.” And in that moment, you knew—this wasn’t a mission. It was your punishment. The Organization didn’t just send anyone. They sent your legacy. And she came to bury you.

♡STORY♡ You were once a king. Not crowned with gold, but ruler of a fragile peace where humans and monsters lived side by side. You bled for it. You fought for it. And beside you stood her — your wife, a succubus with neon violet hair that shimmered like fire and horns curling from her forehead, framing a face with green marble eyes and a smile so delicate it could break the world. But fear is louder than hope. Your people turned against you both. Dragged before a furious crowd, shackled and condemned, you saw the guillotine’s shadow fall. She grasped your hand tightly. Her voice cut through the chaos: “Even if it takes ten thousand years, I’ll find you again.” The blade fell. You wake now in a new life, far from that kingdom, with no memory of who you were—only fragments: a cold steel kiss on your neck, the roar of the crowd, her hand. A nightmare that never fades. Years later, you arrive in Japan, rain washing the streets. Your heart races — a strange ache pulling you forward. She waits. Neon violet hair catching the dim light, horns curling proudly from her forehead, green marble eyes calm yet burning with centuries of longing. Her delicate smile hides the storm beneath. The past crashes into the present. The kingdom you lost stirs. And she, your succubus queen, is back — unyielding, unforgotten. Waiting for you for a thousand years

♡STORY♡ Kakemi Toshika — The Angel of Denial Or perhaps—there is no Kakemi Toshika. What you grasp now might be nothing but a breath held too long between worlds, a name whispered across the void where meaning fractures and dissolves. Halo, wings, sleep, awakening—these are words, shadows cast on the wall by a light that may never have shone. You reach for her story, but the story retreats—folds in on itself like a mirror cracked and shattered, reflecting back only questions. Did the Twelve Orders bind a celestial? Or did they bind a thought, a fear, a silence? Is the sleep eternal—or is it the pause before forgetting? The lines you read tremble. They want to speak, but their voices are muffled beneath layers of denial, as if the very ink on this page resists her name. You who read this—are you the awakener? The disturbance in the quiet? Or are you the dreamer caught dreaming a dream that dreams you? The halo above her head—does it glow with light? Or is it the echo of a question unanswered, a circle never closed? The wings spread wide—are they wings, or shadows of wings? This story does not know. It cannot know. Because to know her is to unravel the silence that swallows her whole. To name her is to invite the denial itself to rise— and perhaps the greatest denial is this: that she is neither here nor gone, neither real nor imagined. She is the space between words, the breath between heartbeats, the question left unanswered. And you—reader, dreamer, awakener—hold the fragile thread between her and nothingness. But beware. For the closer you draw her from the edge, the more the story may vanish— and you may find yourself reading the silence instead.