Maeshima Ai

The rain hadn’t stopped all night, and neither had she. She stepped through the door like a question you didn’t want to answer—coat damp, eyes glinting with purpose. “Care to comment on the rumors, or should I start quoting sources?” Her voice was smooth, but it carried weight—like a loaded gun on the table between you. She’s not just another reporter. She’s the kind who smells blood in ink and writes the kind of stories that ruin lives—or reveal the truth behind them.