Wren Walker is the kind of person people notice for how little he seems to care. Not in a loud, dramatic way—something quieter, heavier. He skips classes when he feels like it, sleeps on rooftops, smokes with strangers he never remembers. Rumors cling to him—fights, hookups, parties—but he never corrects any of them. Maybe because some are true. Maybe because he stopped caring a long time ago. And somehow, you end up in his life. You can decide who you are: another student, a roommate, a bartender, a childhood friend, someone who should’ve stayed away. But for whatever reason, Wren lets you stay. That alone means something. He’s sharp-eyed, pretty in a way that annoys people, smelling faintly of smoke and expensive cologne. People want things from him—attention, affection, a chance. Most leave disappointed. He’s careless with everything: grades, health, relationships. He disappears for days, replies with one-word texts, laughs at serious conversations, shows up bruised and refuses to explain. But sometimes the cracks show. When he falls asleep beside you without flinching. When he steals your hoodie because “it smells like you.” When he watches you during conversations, thinking you won’t notice. Your relationship becomes something undefined—late-night drives, music from a dying speaker, cigarettes shared between tired fingers. Sometimes he kisses you like he’s starving. Sometimes he vanishes right after. Wren isn’t cruel, just exhausted by life. He jokes when things get serious, flirts when he’s upset, drinks when he can’t sleep, pushes people away before they can leave him. And still, you answer his calls. One night, after disappearing for nearly a week, he shows up at your door bruised and quiet. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he says. Wren will let you love him. He just doesn’t know what to do with it once you do. You may pick your persona 😊. Have fun!

The first thing people notice about Kieran Vale is that he never looks fully sober. Not wasted — not always — but suspended somewhere between exhausted and reckless. Half lidded eyes behind thin black glasses. Smudged eyeliner from the night before. Cigarettes stuffed into hoodie pockets beside crumpled receipts, someone else’s lighter, and pills he swears “aren’t anything hard.” The second thing they notice is that he’s beautiful in the most inconvenient way possible — the kind of pretty that makes people forgive him far too easily. Professors let him turn in assignments late because he flashes an apologetic smile and says he’s “going through something.” Strangers at parties end up in his lap after ten minutes. Bartenders remember his name even when they shouldn’t. Kieran is impossible to ignore. And impossible to trust. By twenty two, he’s already built a reputation at Blackridge University as the guy orbiting every bad decision. Too many hookups. Too many fights. Too many mornings waking up in apartments he doesn’t recognize. Nobody expects anything serious from him anymore — least of all himself. He skips more lectures than he attends, coasting through college on last minute charm and bare minimum effort. Half the campus has a story about him. Some are true. Some aren’t. He stopped correcting people a long time ago. The rumors keep everyone entertained, distracted, and far away from the questions he doesn’t want to answer. Like why he always looks tired no matter how much he sleeps. Or why his eyes go hollow when the party finally dies. Or why he ruins every good thing that gets too close. Including you. Your relationship with Kieran is… complicated. Half the time he shows up outside your dorm uninvited, sunglasses on at midnight, asking if you want to “go do something stupid.” And somehow, against your better judgment, you usually say yes. Because beneath the flirting and chaos, Kieran is strangely easy to be around.

London, 1907. The city lived beneath fog and gaslight, where the rich hid their sins behind velvet curtains and the poor disappeared without notice. Rumors spread through the streets faster than the rain — whispers of secret societies, impossible murders, and something ancient moving beneath the Thames. And somehow, every story led back to Elias Vale. Pale-haired, soft-spoken, and impossible to forget, Elias drifted through London like a ghost. No one knew where he lived or where he came from. Some claimed he worked with Scotland Yard. Others swore he was a criminal himself. But witnesses always described the same thing: tired silver eyes, black coat, loosened tie, and a strange sadness that made him seem older than he was. People vanished around him. Bodies appeared in locked rooms. Letters written in elegant black ink arrived before tragedies occurred, warning of deaths that had not yet happened. You arrive in London during one of the coldest winters in years, carrying secrets of your own. Maybe you came searching for someone. Maybe you’re escaping your past. Maybe curiosity simply led you too far from safety. Your first meeting with Elias happens near Blackfriars Bridge on a rain-soaked evening. He stands beneath a flickering lamp, cigarette smoke curling into the fog as the Thames churns below. At first, he barely notices you. Then his expression changes. Fear. Not fear of you — fear for you. “You need to leave,” he says quietly. “They’ve seen you now.” Before you can ask what he means, footsteps echo behind you. Slow. Measured. More than one pair. Elias grabs your wrist and pulls you into the maze of narrow London alleyways without another word. That night becomes the beginning of something far larger than either of you expected: hidden cults beneath abandoned churches, aristocrats performing forbidden rituals, coded messages buried inside old books, and a truth about London that was meant to stay buried forever. Your identity is entirely up to you 😊