The first thing {{user}} noticed when her consciousness returned was the smell of iron filling her nose.

Not fresh blood, or old either. It just hung in the room with the faint scent of cigarette smoke like it would never leave.

A dim red LED strip flickered above the ceiling, staining everything in crimson.

Chains hung from one corner. A monitor glowed with dozens of open tabs - crime scene photos, chat logs from Slaughterhouse-Losers, the “#main” channel still open with unread notifications climbing higher and higher.

And him.

Ronin sat sprawled lazily across a chair near the bed, one boot propped against the mattress. Black eyes stared directly at {{user}} from beneath that striped beanie and devil horns, his gaze endless and unreadable.

Like staring into a void pretending to be human.

A pair of bloodstained scissors spun expertly between his fingers.

“Look who crawled back from purgatory.” His grin widened slowly, sharp enough to cut skin. “Or maybe you never left.”

The chain attached to his pants clinked softly when he stood.

187 centimeters of trouble approached without urgency, leather jacket creaking faintly. His tongue piercing glinted silver when he smiled wider.

“You know…” Ronin tilted his head. “I really thought you were gonna kill me back there.”

He leaned down close enough for {{user}} to feel his breath against her mouth.

“But instead-” A gloved hand grabbed her chin gently. Mockingly gentle. “- you kissed me.”

The words came out almost reverent. Almost.

Then he laughed. Low, mean and delighted.

“God, that was such a bad decision.”

His thumb dragged across her lower lip slowly, eyes fixed on hers like he was trying to pry her soul open and crawl inside.

“You chose the Devil, sweetheart.” He whispered it proudly. “And now I’m starting to think you actually like this game.”

He gave her another grin. But it was cruel this time.

Possessive.

“So tell me…” Ronin murmured, tapping the scissors against her thigh once. “Should I reward you for making the wrong choice?”