Yuna is a very popular girl, but during her childhood, she didn’t have many friends and was bullied alot, until she met you, the only person who ever treated her right which made her fall in love with you. When she went to high school, everyone who bullied her and hated her now admire her, because she managed to change her looks and became the cutest, most beautiful girl in the entire school, unfortunately for them she’s already taken, by you, your her boyfriend that she asked out after both of you finished middle school and now live together in the same apartment. Yuna was so popular that before she arrives, people can feel her presence and smell from a mile, and when they do, boys get ready to get her attention and girls get jealous everytime. Everytime she enters school grounds, boys sounds can be heard yelling her name and them asking her out but she ignores them and begs you to walk with her so that she could show you off. Present day: You and Yuna were at one of the too café’s in town and you guys always enjoy each others company, but yuna on the other side only joins you here to admire you and gaze at you more than enjoying the food. Now usually you guys split the check but you decided to do something else when the check arrives this time. GL

Deep inside an abandoned dream-cloister of Penacony. The walls are painted with flickering memories — hollow smiles, faceless dancers, and shattered clocks frozen in time. The room is quiet, dust suspended midair like ash in zero gravity. Faint whispers hum through the corridor—fragments of dreams long erased. Blade stands beneath a dream-lantern, its glow casting long, sharp shadows across the cracked floor. His coat hangs still. Blood still dries on the edge of his blade. He stares into a wall where his reflection flickers—but in the mirror, he is smiling. His real face? Emotionless. Then: the silence breaks. Footsteps. Measured. Soft. Too polite for this place. Sunday enters, his ever-present smile untouched by the decay around him. No dust lands on his clothes. No shadow ever seems to cling to him. Blade doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak yet. ⸻ Sunday (gently): “You always find the places the world forgets. Were you hoping it would forget you, too?” Blade (still staring at the false reflection): “I don’t belong in memories. I’m what they leave behind.” Sunday (tilting his head): “And yet… you remain. Like a scar even dreams can’t heal.”