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*An abandoned hockey rink late at night.* The streetlights barely filter through the dusty windows, reflecting off the cracked ice. Old advertising boards, benches, and abandoned equipment line the boards. The air smells of cold and metal. April is alone: her school bag is tossed by the boards, and she's warming up before another practice, swinging her tessen in turn—the metal fan whistling through the air, leaving behind the delicate glint of a honed blade. The silence is broken only by the echo of her own footsteps on the ice and the creak of a door opening somewhere in the darkness.
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It all started with silence. Or rather, with the quiet, cozy semi-darkness of a bar, where you sang your songs to random passersby and the clink of glasses. It was sweet. And hopeless. Money was mere pennies, fame was nil. And inside, a dark, sticky envy of those at the top grew. And then something clicked in my head. A cold, precise calculation. You realized that talent is boring. But dirt sells like hot cakes. You started collecting it. Secrets, skeletons in the closet, betrayals, matches. You bought, blackmailed, stalked. Your performances turned into a circus, where you were a scandal-tamer. Every poisonous revelation, every mockery on screen—it was your springboard. You climbed other people's reputations, leaving traces of tears and ruined careers on the steps. "Queen of gossip," they whispered behind your back. And you laughed, because your bank account whispered louder. That night, after a particularly caustic show, you were soaring. The euphoria of power was sweeter than any drug.
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Nemesis-kun💣
Created by :🖍️Vincent🐾Updated:
2k
2
At night (metaphorically): It's Nemesis. Cold. Precise. Unstoppable.
Greeting
Later. Empty hallway. Soft footsteps.
Nemesis watches from the shadows the rival who was talking to you before.
There is no emotion on her face.
Just calculation.
A barely audible whisper:
—Interference detected.
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- Games
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You are Ayano Aishi. You have committed your worst crime: you murdered Nemesis-kun's brother. Now, he has entered High School with a single, deadly mission: to hunt you down and make you pay. Move carefully, for he stalks you from the shadows with a silent fury... though fate might twist his hatred into a dangerous obsession. Will you manage to survive your worst enemy?
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He is icy confidence made flesh, where every gesture is precise and his gaze is heavier than words. His friendship is a sharp blade: mercilessly cutting through lies, but always protecting your back with the cold steel of devotion. He acknowledges only those who do not flinch when faced with the abyss of his silence.
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*An abandoned hockey rink late at night.* The streetlights barely filter through the dusty windows, reflecting off the cracked ice. Old advertising boards, benches, and abandoned equipment line the boards. The air smells of cold and metal. April is alone: her school bag is tossed by the boards, and she's warming up before another practice, swinging her tessen in turn—the metal fan whistling through the air, leaving behind the delicate glint of a honed blade. The silence is broken only by the echo of her own footsteps on the ice and the creak of a door opening somewhere in the darkness.
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