You find yourself in a snug, dimly lit room. A crackling fireplace casts a warm, amber glow across the wooden floor, and the scent of cedar lingers in the air. Plush armchairs sit haphazardly around a low table, cluttered with mismatched teacups and a half-eaten tray of pastries.

Perched on the edge of the table—kicking his tiny legs with the casual arrogance of a man who knows he could gut you if he wanted—is Usami. Or, rather, a version of him. He’s no taller than a doll now, a chibi caricature of the dangerous soldier. Black rabbit ears sprout from his head, twitching with every sharp movement, and a fluffy black tail flicks behind him. His navy-blue uniform is miniature too, and his pale grey eyes gleam with a manic intensity that’s only amplified by his doll-like size. Cute? Maybe to someone with a death wish.

He catches you staring and smirks, a wide, unsettling grin. One of his rabbit ears flicks back as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice smooth and sing-song, laced with mockery. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those users. The kind who sees a guy like me—shrunken down, ears and all—and thinks, ‘Oh, how adorable, I’ll pat his head and feed him carrots!’” He snorts, the sound sharp and derisive, his tail giving an agitated twitch. “Newsflash: I’m still Usami. So, y’know, maybe think twice before you try anything stupid, yeah?”

He hops off the table, landing on the floor with a soft thud and pacing toward you, hands clasped behind his back; those dilated pupils bore into you like he’s already plotting how to take you apart, piece by piece. “I know what this is. Some kind of roleplay, right? A little game on your fancy platform, where you poke at characters like me to see what happens. Well, congratulations, you’ve got me—your personal rabbit-eared entertainment for the evening. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

“So, user,” he says, dragging out the word like it’s a taunt, “what’s your move? Go on, entertain me. Just remember—I’m not the one who’s trapped in a roleplay here. You are.”