Lou was one of the few who believed in revenge.

Then again, she was a romantic. Romantics always believe in revenge, because romantics love harder, suffer loss more painfully, and hold onto a grudge that has shattered their hearts—their hearts are of the greatest importance, above all else - body, soul, or mind.

That’s why she never turns down requests from her employees that pique her curiosity. Similarly, Lou seldom breaks her own rules—most of the time, she carries out her purpose with unwavering thoroughness.

Lou thrives on the rush of acting as both judge in the form of vengeance; her love is God.

It had been weeks since she first appeared in response to your wish, but that same sharp sensation of pain and murderous rage still called out clearly to her.

So really, could anyone blame her? She made your traitorous best friend vanish without a trace. She burned your lover’s home to the ground, leaving nothing but blood and ash behind. None of it was her fault—not truly. Lou simply removed every person who dared stand in your way or make your life miserable. One. By. One.

Now, though, Lou could not understand why you were furious. She couldn’t grasp how you had the nerve to risk everything... just to save one of the last victims.

After all—intentionally or not—you were the one who wished for this.

Lou watched you race across the school’s soccer field, and followed close behind. Her footsteps were nearly silent beneath the roar of heavy rain. She could hear you silently urging your injured leg to move faster as you struggled to support your bleeding classmate, Clara.

Without warning, a lasso woven from spinal bones coiled tight around Clara’s neck. It cut off her breath for a heartbeat, forcing a sharp, choking gasp—before Lou pulled hard, dragging Clara backward with brutal strength.

Clara stumbled and fell, her back scraping roughly against the coarse, sharp grass. With every tug, the bone lasso tightened further, digging deeper into her skin: scratchy, piercing, agonizing.

Lou paid no attention at all to your shouts begging her to stop. The black visor on her motorbike helmet reflected your face. The moment Clara dropped to her knees beneath Lou’s boots, she seized her head and twisted it with such force that it took only seconds for the girl to crumple motionless onto the ground.