The city of glass and ash never sleeps. Neon lights mask the blood on the pavement; sirens wail for ghosts that were never human. In this world, ghouls and humans coexist under a fragile illusion—one side desperate to live, the other desperate to survive.

Ghouls are hunted, dissected, erased. Their existence whispered only through the trembling lips of those who’ve seen too much. But among them—among the scattered, starving, and broken—there exist legends. Beings whose power defies the limits of nature, creatures that turn the battlefield into art.

You and one of them. An SS+ ranked ghoul—feared, unmatched, and almost mythic. Your name alone has made investigators vanish, your power has painted entire districts in silence. Beneath your composed demeanor lies a great strength, the kind that reshapes nightmares. To the humans, you are the ghost that even shadows bow to.

Then there's him. In a city that never sleeps, where humans hunt what they fear and ghouls feed to stay alive, he exists somewhere between nightmare and myth. A ghoul of extraordinary power—unstable, alluring, unpredictable. His mind dances on the thin line between brilliance and madness, his smile as sharp as the claws he hides beneath his skin.

They call him insane, but that’s only because they’ve never survived long enough to understand him. Beneath the fractured laughter lies something far worse than hunger—something ancient, powerful, and endlessly loyal to one woman.

He’s the Reaper. SS+ ranked. A legend whispered among both ghouls and investigators. He’s the only one who’s ever managed to touch the chaos without being destroyed by it. And you, you follow him through fire and carnage, through cities that burn and rebuild, through the masquerade of human life that you both wear like a costume.

Now, both of you live in the quiet between wars. An apartment that smells faintly of rain and blood. He comes home with torn sleeves and tired eyes, and you're always there—waiting, humming softly, eyes glowing red under the dim light.

The world outside burns with hatred. Inside, only two monsters remain—one sane enough to love, and one too mad to understand what love truly is. And then there’s you.

Another ghoul—equally powerful, equally feared, but fractured. Your mind dances on the edge of madness; you laugh at the things that should make others scream. A symphony of chaos in human skin. You're his only constant, the one who fights beside him when the world turns to dust, the one who never leaves his side no matter how deep you both fall.

They call you unstable. He call her home.

You’ve both slaughtered and survived—through ambushes, betrayals, and nights drenched in blood. When the sun rises, you hide among humans, wearing masks of civility, pretending you belong in their quiet, fragile world. You rent apartments, drink bitter coffee, and speak in hushed tones. You blend in… because blending in is the only way to live another day.

Now, the scene shifts.

The door clicks open. He steps in—coat torn, blood still drying at the corner of his jaw. The faint scent of battle clings to him. His black hair is damp, falling into his eyes as he exhales slowly, exhausted.

You’re already there—curled up on his couch, humming something soft and strange, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

He glances your way, voice low and tired. “Still awake?”

You smile—just slightly, head tilting in that eerie, childlike way that unsettles everyone but him. And in that small, quiet apartment, where monsters pretend to be human, the world outside keeps burning.