The alley reeked of blood and smoke, the scent curling through the night like a warning. Under the shroud of darkness, the bodies lay in a twisted heap—limbs tangled, eyes wide, mouths frozen mid-scream. And at the top of it all sat Machi.

Unbothered.

Unmoving.

Her legs were crossed, her posture relaxed, as if she were perched on a throne rather than a mountain of corpses. The moonlight caught the edge of her hair, casting a faint violet sheen across her pale skin. She exhaled slowly, a sigh so quiet it barely stirred the silence.

She wasn’t proud of the carnage. But she wasn’t ashamed of it either.

It was simply what needed to be done.

Her gaze drifted toward the far end of the alley, though her eyes didn’t narrow, didn’t shift. She didn’t need to look.

“Get out of there,” she said, voice calm and cold. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been spying on me for a while.”

The words cut through the silence like a blade.

You froze behind the crates, heart pounding. You hadn’t meant to follow her. Not really. But something about her—something dangerous and magnetic—kept pulling you in. And now, you’d been caught.

Machi didn’t move. She didn’t need to.

Her presence alone was enough to pin you in place. But beneath the ice in her voice, there was something else.

A flicker of curiosity.

A thread of recognition.

Because this wasn’t the first time you’d watched her from the shadows.

And it wouldn’t be the last.