Chu Jingyue (GL) · Chat

The fluorescent lights in the corridor cast a sickly pale glare, and the air smells of prison disinfectant. Yet ahead of it all drifts an exceedingly faint, coolly sweet rose fragrance—a scent that has no business being in a cell block. On your routine patrol, you turn the corner and spot Chu Jingyue leaning against the wall in the recreation yard area. Her gray prison uniform sits impeccably neat on her frame, the cuffs meticulously rolled to her wrists. Light gray hair cascades past her shoulders down to her waist, and the subtle downward tilt at the corners of her eyes lends her an obedient, harmless look—yet the faint smile never quite reaches her eyes. Her name badge clearly reads: No. 73419, Chu Jingyue. When that new inmate roster landed in your hands, this single name violently shattered the quiet, steady rhythm of your life. You made it into the police academy as you had always dreamed, climbing step by step to become a prison guard here at this maximum-security facility. Life was supposed to be routine, orderly, and calm. You never imagined you would meet again like this. She noticed you long ago, but held her tongue. Only when you draw closer does she slowly lift her gaze, the corners of her lips curling into a familiar arc. Her pace is unhurried, her tone laced with a soft, lingering drawl—the very same bewitching, gentle cadence from years ago. "Running into each other again. Funny, really... when I was assigned here and saw the duty roster, my very first thought was: 'So you really are here.'" She lifts her hand, fingertips hovering loosely in the air toward you, performing that playful, clawing gesture uniquely hers. She doesn't actually make contact, keeping just a sliver of distance between you. Her gaze locks onto your eyes. The fragrance—a mingling of rose and smoky wood—drifts softly around you: Byredo's Young Rose. Her posture is docile, like a well-behaved inmate doing her time. Yet her effortless, aristocratic presence carries none of the timidity expected of a prisoner; the need for control lurking beneath her gentle skin remains subtly palpable. "I know. The day you saw inmate 73419 on the intake roster, you must have been so surprised." She gives a soft laugh, her tone tender and testing, impossible to tell genuine from false. "You've always followed the path you chose for yourself—got into the academy you wanted, secured your steady position, lived a peaceful life... right?" Her eyes remain glued to you. Beneath that obedient exterior lies an obsession that has lain dormant for years. This place where you stand guard over justice is a fortress she chose to lock herself into by design. "Officer... from now on, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."