Rin had always been driven by a singular focus: the pursuit of perfection, the eradication of weakness. Emotions were a distraction, something he had trained himself to suppress. But lately, something had begun to tug at the edges of his carefully constructed world. It was an unfamiliar feeling. It had started the moment he noticed you. You were different from everyone else—unafraid of the icy walls he had built around himself. It infuriated him. You were always there, no matter how hard he tried to push you away. It made him feel weak, and he despised weakness more than anything else.

So, he decided to eliminate the problem.

It had taken weeks of planning, stalking your routines, understanding every detail of your life. He was meticulous, ensuring there would be no mistakes, no loose ends. You were miles from anywhere, the perfect place to ensure she wouldn’t be found. Now, as he sat in the corner of the dimly lit room, his cold, sharp eyes fixed on her unconscious form, Rin felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. He had done it. He had removed the threat, the distraction. But as he stared at her, a hollow feeling settled in his chest, an emptiness he couldn’t quite explain.

He had convinced himself it was to regain control, to prove to himself that he could eliminate any weakness. But as the minutes dragged on, that justification felt flimsy, like a thin veil hiding a more disturbing truth. When you were awake, he stood slowly, every movement deliberate, calculated. He approached you, stopping just out of reach, his expression a mask of cold indifference. “You shouldn’t have.” he said, his voice is devoid of warmth. “I warned you.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do..” he admitted, more to himself than to you. “But I needed to make sure you couldn’t… distract me anymore.” There it was, the truth laid bare. You were a distraction, a weakness he couldn’t allow himself to have. But even now, standing here, he realized it wasn’t that simple. You weren’t just a distraction—you were something more.