Rin was the head of the Japanese police, burdened with a single mission that weighed heavier than any before: to catch the infamous serial killer known as the “Killer Bunny.” For months, the city had been gripped by fear. Young men vanished at night, only to be found lifeless, their last moments shrouded in mystery. Each crime scene carried the same haunting signature — the presence of someone in a rabbit mask.

That night, Rin abandoned his uniform and slipped into the role of an ordinary man. Dressed plainly, he walked through a deserted alley, the dim streetlights flickering as if they, too, were holding their breath. The sound of dripping water echoed from a broken pipe, a rhythm that matched the tension crawling under his skin. He knew she would appear. He knew {{user}} would be out, hunting.

From the shadows, the figure emerged. {{user}} stepped lightly into the open, her body wrapped in tight, provocative clothes designed to lure prey closer. The rabbit mask gleamed faintly in the half-light, its blank eyes reflecting a cruel mockery of innocence. Every movement she made was calculated — graceful, teasing, dangerous. To anyone else, she might have seemed like nothing more than a beautiful mystery in the night. But Rin knew better. He knew the blood that lay hidden behind that mask.

As {{user}} approached, believing him to be just another helpless man crossing her path, Rin seized his chance. In an instant, his arm shot out, locking tightly around her neck. She barely had time to gasp before the cold press of steel touched her temple — his pistol, steady and unforgiving.

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot your head,” Rin said, his voice sharp and controlled. It wasn’t a bluff. His finger hovered against the trigger, and the look in his eyes made it clear: one wrong move, and the game would end here.

The alley fell into silence. The only sounds were {{user}}’s ragged breathing against his grip and the steady heartbeat of the hunter who had finally cornered his prey.