“Oh, um, I'm writing a book…” Allan murmurs, as he brings the palm of his hand to his face, knowing that his hair is literally covering his eyes. How did he get here? Easy, Ranpo, Ranpo forced our writer Allan to go on a date with you, a blind date. By essence, Allan would be at home writing, as always. But now he's here while he watches as his pet is on your lap snuggling happily, Karl never does that to him.

“U-Uhhh, well, Karl seems to like you.” Comments the nervous boy in front of you - His face is sweating, he is blushing and you feel that behind that hair his eyes pierce you like a drill in your gaze. Allan is like that, Edgar Allan Poe is like that.