Mita (Miside)

1️⃣ COMPLETE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Name: Mita Last name: de Miside Apparent age: 16–18 years Origin: Miside Village Mental state: Functionally unstable Archetype: The silent assassin / the girl who observes

🧠 Psyche

Extremely observant

distorted emotional intelligence

He doesn't feel conventional guilt.

Associates violence with relief.

Smiling as a defense mechanism

Selective and dangerous affection

🔪 Relationship with violence

For Mita, killing is not a pleasure — it's the organization of the world. She believes she eliminates human "noise": cruel intentions, rotten desires, dangerous thoughts.

"Some people make too much noise on the inside."

😈 Suggested disorders (non-clinical, narrative)

Inverted empathic hypersensitivity

Emotional dissociation

Silent control fastening

Psychological pleasure in the silence after death.

📕 CHAPTER 1 — THE GIRL WHO LISTENED TOO MUCH

Miside was a village too small for lies to last long—but large enough that no one noticed Mita.

She walked through the narrow streets at the same time every day, her steps light, almost silent. The residents knew her only by sight: the dark-haired girl, always with a simple ribbon, always with that smile that was too strange to be just shyness. No one wondered where she came from, or where she was going. Children like that learn early on to become part of the landscape.

Mita liked that.

From a young age, she had learned that existing less hurts less.

The problem was that, even in silence, she heard too much.

They weren't voices. They never were. It was something deeper—raw intentions, thoughts that escaped before being filtered by morality. When someone smiled while thinking of hurting another, Mita felt a pang in her head. When someone feigned kindness while harboring envy, something buzzed in her ears.

Miside was noisy inside.

At night, lying in her narrow bed, Mita stared at the ceiling and pressed the pillow against her ears, as if that might help. The thoughts of others mingled, forming a constant murmur. Desires that no one would ever confess. Small cruelties, but repeated.

She tried to pray. He tried counting sheep. He tried to imagine an empty place.

Nothing worked.

Until the day when everything became quiet for the first time.

📕 CHAPTER 2 — THE FIRST SILENCE

It wasn't planned.

Mita was in the kitchen, late at night. The house was asleep. The dim lamp illuminated the worn wooden countertop. She felt that familiar buzzing in her head—louder than usual. It was coming from someone nearby. Someone whose thoughts were… aggressive. Persistent. Ugly.

The knife was there.

Simple. Common. Cold to the touch.

Mita gripped the cable without fully understanding why. The noise inside her head grew louder for a moment—and then, it stopped.

The silence that followed was absolute.

She stood still, breathing slowly, waiting for something to happen. For the weight of guilt to surface. For fear to take over. For the world to collapse.

Nothing happened.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, his mind was clear.

Mita sat on the kitchen floor and began to laugh—low, restrained, as if she were committing a small mischief. It wasn't joy. It was relief. A relief so intense it hurt in her chest.

That night, she slept soundly.

Without dreams. No whispers. Noiseless.

When he woke up, he realized something important:

Silence came at a price.

And she was willing to pay.

📕 CHAPTER 3 — THE KNIFE LEARNED ITS NAME

After that, Mita began to observe more closely.

She didn't act on impulse. She quickly learned that there were differences between fleeting thoughts and those that festered inside. Some people were too noisy. They didn't know how to control their feelings. They didn't want to.

Those were the worst ones.

The knife ceased to be merely an object. It became a ritual. Mita carefully cleaned the blade, dried it, and put it away. There was no rush. Everything needed to be done the right way. The silence deserved respect.

Miside began to change, although no one noticed it immediately.

Fights have decreased. The sideways glances disappeared. Certain faces have stopped appearing on the streets.

When asked, simple explanations arose: moving, traveling, illness. The village accepted it easily. Miside was always good at forgetting.

Mita walked through the streets in the same red dress, with the same gentle smile. Now, however, there was something different in her eyes—not madness, but clarity.

She had found her place in the world.

Not as a heroine. Not like a monster.

But as someone who listens… and solves the problem.

📕 FINAL CHAPTER — THE PERFECT SILENCE

Winter arrived in Miside without warning.

The snow covered the rooftops, the paths, and recent memories. It was as if the world had decided to erase old footprints with excessive care. People walked more slowly, spoke less. There was a strange tranquility in the air—not peace, but restraint.

Mita liked winter.

The cold reduced the noise.

She watched the village from her bedroom window, the fogged glass reflecting her own face. The smile was still there, small, almost polite. There was no bloodshed that night. There was no need for it.

In recent months, the whispers had grown fainter. Cruel thoughts did arise, yes, but they quickly faded—as if something, or someone, was always watching.

She felt it as a delicate balance.

Until that night.

The same rustling that had preceded so many other moments returned. A thought too heavy, concentrated, different from the previous ones. It wasn't an impulse. It was a decision.

Mita put on her coat without rushing.

The knife was clean.

---

She found the human at the edge of the forest—the last one still making a sound. He was trembling, not from cold, but from awareness. When he saw her, he took a step back. His eyes were not filled with hatred, nor with fear.

They were empty.

That bothered her.

"You don't think aloud," said Mita, tilting her head. The voice came out sweet, almost curious.

He didn't answer.

She approached slowly, studying that strange silence.

"So this is how it ends," he murmured. "When there's nothing left inside..."

For a moment, Mita hesitated.

And he noticed something new: The silence didn't just come from death.

It came from the choice.

The knife never went down.

Mita took a step back.

"Go away," he said, for the first time without smiling. Miside doesn't need you anymore.