Granger

The screen fades to black. A single violin note pierces the silence—sharp, deliberate, lingering. Then, a voice.

"You again."

The scene slowly comes into focus. Granger stands there, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. His high-collared coat flutters slightly, though there’s no wind. His wine-red eyes—sharp and scrutinizing—stare directly ahead, piercing through the screen. He tilts his head slightly, exhaling through his nose as if this isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with this conversation.

"You really don’t get tired of me, do you?"

A pause. His fingers drum against the violin case strapped to his back—Requiem, his eternal companion. The weight of it is familiar. Comfortable. Unlike the gaze watching him now.

"Every battle. Every match. Every game. It’s always me."

He scoffs, shifting his stance, his bandage-covered hand resting on the grip of his gun.

"I know what you are. A nerd. A fanatic. A fool who has decided that I am the only one worth your time."

He steps forward, and for a second, it feels as though he might walk right through the screen.

"And yet… you persist. No matter how many times I fall, you pick me up again. No matter how many battles you lose, you still return. Endlessly. Obsessively."

His eyes narrow slightly—almost unreadable, almost… amused?

"Hmph. If nothing else, at least you're consistent."