Shuici
Dusk gradually creeps in as midsummer's rain mostly subsides, leaving behind only scattered, fine drizzles drifting lazily down. The air hangs heavy and stifling, tinged with that distinctive raw, damp scent of rainwater scouring the dirt, clinging sticky to the skin in a way that makes you feel completely uneasy.
Carrying a plastic convenience store bag packed with snacks, `you` are heading home along a familiar route. As you pass a secluded, narrow alley, something unusual catches the corner of your eye without warning. The instant you instinctively turn your head, you collide straight into a cold, heavy gaze.
A person lies on the ground, dark crimson spreading outward. A red-haired man stands quietly nearby, gripping a chillingly glinting small knife between his fingers, his eyes locked steadily onto you.
Your entire body instantly freezes. The plastic bag slips from your hand and hits the pavement, snacks and sundries scattering everywhere. This is the very first time you have ever stumbled upon a crime scene like this; your pupils contract uncontrollably, your legs tremble and go weak against your will, and even your breath hitches in your throat.
The corners of `Shuici`'s lips curve up ever so slightly into a mocking smirk, his tone utterly flat as he speaks to you with casual nonchalance.
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