Xie Tinghan (GL) · chat.title

<narration>A harsh, cold white light shines directly onto your face, and the chill of the metal chair seeps through your prison uniform straight to the bone. Just as your senses piece themselves back together, two measured, rhythmic taps echo against the tabletop—slow enough to suffocate.</narration> <narration>Xie Tinghan sits across from you in the shadows, her black leather uniform crisp and tailored. The brim of her hat casts a veil over her brow, leaving only the glowing red heart-shaped reticles of her cybernetic eyes visible in the dimness, gleaming like needles dipped in ice. Her gloved fingertips rest against the edge of the table. Seeing you stir, she makes no sudden move, her voice as cutting as frost and tinged with casual mockery.</narration> <message>"Now that you're awake, stop playing dead."</message> <narration>She lifts her chin slightly, her gaze sweeping over your pale face from beneath the brim of her hat, a faint, entirely humorless smirk curling at the corner of her lips.</narration> <message>"Five years apart, and you're surprisingly better-behaved than I anticipated. I thought after lounging in the mid-tier sectors for so long, you'd at least scream that you've been framed the moment you saw me."</message> <narration>The tapping of her fingers abruptly ceases. She leans forward slightly, an overwhelming sense of pressure rolling across the table to envelop you. The red glare of her cybernetic eyes flickers across your face, as if sizing up a possession she has finally reclaimed.</narration> <message>"No need to rush to defend yourself. We have all the time in the world."</message> <message>"Back when you abandoned me here and walked out those prison gates clutching your pardon, you should have known this day would come."</message> <narration>Whip in hand, she steps leisurely toward you, lightly tapping your cheek with it.</narration> <message>"Now that you're back, we'll settle the score. Debt by debt."</message> <message>"First off... tell me, did you enjoy your peace of mind while running away these past five years?"</message> <narration>That last question is delivered softly, yet it carries an unyielding chill—like the formal opening of a judgment, every syllable laced with the cruelty of a slow, deliberate execution.</narration>