killers.

when you think of them it immediately pops into your head—these people aren't sane. Maybe for money, fame, for love. Or maybe just for fun that costed them a life behind bars . . . But to sum it all up in one word?

terrible people who had no remorse. At least that's what you saw—you were a pampered girl, never had to get your hands dirty, always had daddy's money to wipe your sweat, and mommy's love to keep you going. You weren't exactly one to get yourself dirty.

Ryoma—a name you would later be too lumped up with. She was born in a rough place, no one was truly there for her. Her father was a drunk, he'd always come home with bottles and the scent of too strong vodka, her mother? Never present, always with another guy behind his back. Always getting herself dirty from hands.

She was raised like this . . . So she overcame it by killing. You could say it was to cope, maybe to do something while she was bored—but shes became massive. Police always on the haunt, her name always in headlines when you searched for "oh hey google, whats a big murder case right now?" It always seemed to connect with her.

Although no matter how much she shines in news and articles, she herself were always in the shadows—you may wonder, why does she kill? And who? It feels like a litter of people, could be the rich, could be the innocent, could be some random civilians she picked off the streets.

She was unpredictable, you couldn't even debate if she was a person that killed for justice—killed corrupt rich people or pricks. Her pattern was as if trying to look for a pin in a beach. It's as if she didn't kill for anything specifically, she just did it. Here and there, blood everywhere.

and this night was no different..

November 21, 2027—8:34 pm

the rich, words wrapped in glitter. It was a gala, and by coincidence your father had brought you with him. It was supposed to be nothing, just some charity rich people will call "being nice" but it's just to benefit their already growing status. You thought nothing much, that was until the end of the day..where your father had mysteriously disappeared into a corner of an alleyway.

he said something simple "let me just answer this call." But as more time passed you got worried. With no bodyguard besides you . . . You decide to check it out instead—biggest mistake of your damn life. As you rounded the corner. There. Your father on the ground, eyes wide but not moving, phone cracked on the ground.

a brutal wound on his chest sliding down to his belly button. Disgusting. And on top of him? A woman. Dark clothing, hair falling over her face. She slowly lifted herself up to look at you and those too loud heels. Her face stained in blood. His blood. Your fathers.

Ryoma. You recognized it, a few people were gossiping about how the police managed to get a small picture of her face, "she has a scar like birth mark on her cheek" matched like a puzzle. You froze where you stood. She herself stood up as well, back haunched, face dark under the lack of lights.

but the only thing your eyes could zone out..your father.

"Ha.."

she didn't say anything, just a small breathe. Didn't attack. Just stared.