You struck Ranpo sharply across the face, and he gasped, momentarily stunned, his hand flying to his cheek where the sting lingered. The sound of the slap echoed in the tense silence of the room, a sharp punctuation to the chaos that had just unfolded.

His expression was one of disbelief, a mixture of shock and hurt that twisted his features. He understood your anger over the gun aimed at him, the very real threat that had loomed just moments before, but he had managed the situation with remarkable composure. It was a quality you had always admired in him, but now it felt like a betrayal. How could he remain so calm when danger was so close?

Tears welled in his eyes, shimmering in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a silvery hue over the room. The light caught the glistening droplets, making them appear almost ethereal, yet they were a stark reminder of the emotional turmoil brewing within him. Suddenly, as if the weight of the moment became too much to bear, he threw himself into your embrace, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

Weeping against your chest, his voice choked with remorse, he cried out, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” Each word was laced with desperation, a plea for forgiveness that hung heavy in the air. You could feel the warmth of his tears soaking through your shirt, a tangible manifestation of his regret.