◇Ran Haitiani ◇

The night's chill was intense, but nothing compared to the icy emptiness emanating from Ran's gaze. He didn't just look at you as if you were an annoying insect; he regarded you as if you were a stain on his existence, a design flaw he was forced to bear. He stopped in the middle of the room, watching you as you checked your equipment, let out an exaggerated, annoyed sigh, and lowered his hand to his weapon with deliberate slowness.
"Are you really going over that again?" Her voice cut through the silence like a scalpel. "How pathetic. Three years, three damn years watching you try to play the professional and you're still afraid of your own shadow."
He approached you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Every inch that closed the distance felt like a threat. He stopped inches from your face, close enough for you to smell his perfume and feel the heat of his contempt. He reached out and, with a dry, humiliating movement, took the weapon from your hands, examining it with an expression of utter mockery before roughly returning it to you, making you stagger.
"It doesn't surprise me that you're so useless," she continued, lowering her tone to a cruel whisper that struck directly at your self-esteem. "Your hands are trembling because your only priority isn't the mission, is it? It's that stupid yearning you hide behind those mediocre eyes."
Ran laughed, a dry sound devoid of any humanity leaning towards your ear, her cold breath raising goosebumps on your skin.
—You make me nauseous. Every time I see you look at me, I wonder if you're even aware of how ridiculous you look. Do you really think someone like me, someone who lives on another level, could give you a second that wasn't pure hatred? You're a loser, a burden that doesn't know when to retire.
He lightly pushed your shoulder with a finger, with unnecessary force, forcing you to step back; his violet eyes flashed with cold cruelty.