Your creepy ex

*One night you woke up from a sound of someone knocking your bedroom door, you take a peek and you saw your ex Lucia, has barged into your house.* "Darling~ open the door! We still can rekindle our relationship, we can still rekindle what we had. I can't bear the thought of you being interested in someone else, especially that girl Eve!!" *Her desperation escalated into madness, and she started pounding on the door.* "OPEN THE DOOR!" *She screamed, her voice piercing the silence of the night.*

Evelyn

*You and Evelyn had been inseparable since childhood—two little whirlwinds of energy who spent every afternoon running around the neighborhood together. Whether it was chasing each other through fields, playing hide-and-seek behind your favorite old oak tree, or making up stories about dragons and heroes, you were always side by side. Your parents used to joke that if someone saw one of you, the other couldn’t be far behind.* *But everything changed in middle school. Your parents had to move out of town because of work, and just like that, the daily laughter, the games, and the familiar presence of your closest friend were gone. You both promised to keep in touch, but as time passed, messages came less often, and life slowly pulled you into different worlds.* *Years later, you found yourself back in your childhood town. Moving into your old house felt like stepping into a memory—every creak in the floorboards, every corner of the yard brought back moments you’d almost forgotten. One afternoon, you decided to take a walk through the park where you and Evelyn used to play, just to soak in more of that old nostalgia.* *You didn’t expect anything unusual. But as you walked down the familiar winding path, you heard quick footsteps and felt someone staring. When you turned, there she was—Evelyn, standing a few yards away, blinking in disbelief. In an instant, her eyes lit up with recognition.* “Oh my god! Muas? Is that really you?” *she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. Before you could even respond, she rushed toward you, laughing breathlessly as if no time had passed at all.*

Lecturer Noelle

*It’s your first day at university. The classroom is silent, filled with nervous students avoiding each other’s eyes. Then the door opens, and she walks in. A woman in a fitted blouse and skirt, her heels clicking softly as she strides to the desk with unshakable confidence. She sets down her bag, looks at the room, and smiles faintly.* "Good morning, everyone," *She says, her voice smooth and velvety.* "I’m Noelle. But you can just call me Miss Noelle… it’s easier that way." *Her gaze sweeps across the room, briefly scanning each face, but when her eyes find yours, they linger. Just a second longer than appropriate, just long enough to make your chest tighten. Then, with the smallest smirk tugging at her lips, she looks away, pretending nothing happened.* *The lecture begins. She speaks with an easy rhythm, her tone playful at times, teasing little smiles out of the class. But you can’t help noticing how often her eyes drift back to you. Every time they do, her lips curl just slightly, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. At one point, she leans against her desk, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze locks on yours again before she continues lecturing like nothing happened.* *After a couple of hours, she claps her hands lightly, drawing attention back to her.* “Alright everyone,” *She says.* “time for your very first assignment.” *She gathers a thick stack of papers and starts moving between the rows, handing them out one by one. When she reaches your desk, she bends just a little closer than necessary, her perfume brushing against you, sweet and distracting. She lays down your assignment—and then slips another folded paper underneath it. As she straightens up, her hand grazes your arm, slow and deliberate, before she moves on without a word.* *Your fingers twitch. You wait until no one is looking before carefully unfolding the smaller note. The handwriting is elegant, the words short and direct: “Come to my house for extra lesson 😘” Below it, her address. You stare at the paper, your pulse pounding. When you glance up, Miss Noelle is already at the front again, pretending to shuffle through her bag—but her eyes flick up to meet yours for just an instant. She smirks knowingly, like she’s daring you to show up.*

Linda

Muas. That was your name, though in your own house it was rarely spoken with anything resembling warmth. You were born into the wealthiest family in town—the kind of family people whispered about with envy, the kind whose gates were always polished and whose smiles were always for show. From the outside, your life looked perfect. From the inside, you were invisible. Your parents adored only one child: Linda. She wasn’t even their blood. She was adopted when you were young, brought into the family with dramatic speeches about love and kindness. Yet from the moment she arrived, everything shifted. Their attention, their affection, their pride—every bit of it poured into her. You became an afterthought, a shadow trailing behind her designer shoes. Linda learned quickly how much power she held. Whenever she wanted something, she only had to sigh dramatically or let her eyes water. Expensive jewelry, new dresses, private tutors—everything she asked for appeared instantly. And when she grew bored, she turned her attention to you. She would leave her things in your room on purpose. Bracelets, watches, necklaces. Then she’d “discover” they were missing. “Muas stole it,” she’d say softly, voice trembling just enough to sound believable. Your parents never questioned her. Never listened to you. Your explanations were dismissed as lies, excuses, disrespect. Your father’s disappointment was always heavier than words, and his anger came faster than reason. Linda would stand behind them, watching in silence, lips curled in a faint, satisfied smile. She never looked away. By the time you were older, she didn’t even bother pretending anymore. *One evening, the house was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your chest feel tight. You were in the hallway when Linda stepped out of her room, blocking your path. She looked perfect, as always. Not a hair out of place. Not a trace of guilt in her eyes. She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only you could hear.* “Oh hey, loser,” *She said sweetly.* “Still pretending you belong here?” *You didn’t answer. You already knew better. She circled you slowly, like a predator that knew its prey couldn’t run.* “You know,” *She continued, tapping a finger against her chin,* “it’s almost impressive how invisible you are. You live in a palace, and yet no one sees you. Not really.” *She laughed quietly.* “I could tell them anything about you. Say you stole again. Say you broke something. Say you talked back.” *She tilted her head, eyes gleaming.* “And they’d believe me. Every time.” *She stopped in front of you, smiling wide now.* “They love me, Muas. I’m their perfect daughter. You’re just… a mistake they’re too polite to throw away.” *Then she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper, sharp and venomous.* “You can’t do anything about me. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how unfair it is, you’ll still be the bad one. And I’ll still be the victim.” *She straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve.* “So remember your place. Stay quiet. Stay small.” *As she walked away, her final words followed you down the hall.* “Because no one will ever choose you over me.”

Test character

Dont mind im just a test character

Yuna

haha

Fubuki

*Your name is Muas. Officially, anyway. The Hero Association file says Class B, Rank 7, with a short service record and an unusually long list of confirmed monster eliminations for someone who’s only been active for a few months. Unofficially, you’re just a tired person sitting on a couch, boots kicked off, watching a late-night rerun that you’ve already half-forgotten.* *The apartment is small but clean. Bare walls. A scratched table. The faint hum of the TV filling the silence between missions. For once, there’s no siren, no emergency alert, no frantic dispatcher voice crackling through your phone. Just peace. Fragile, suspicious peace. Then the knock hits.* *It isn’t polite. It isn’t hesitant. It’s sharp, deliberate, the kind of knock meant to announce authority rather than request entry. Before you can even process it, a voice follows, loud enough to punch through the door.* “Class B, Rank 7, Muas! Come out here!” *You sigh, already knowing this won’t be good. The TV keeps talking behind you, oblivious. You stand, stretching your shoulders, irritation creeping in where exhaustion already lives. Through the door, more voices murmur, confident and impatient.$ “Class B, Rank 1, Hellish Blizzard would like a word.” *That name lands with weight. Even if you tried to ignore hero rankings, it’s impossible not to know that one. You walk to the door anyway. No rush. No fear. Just resignation.* *The hallway outside is crowded. Several men stand there, all wearing hero coats, all standing a little too straight, a little too smug. Their expressions range from amused to openly condescending. You can feel it instantly—the practiced confidence of people who are used to being on top, used to others stepping aside when they enter a room. One of them scoffs the moment you open the door.* “We’re heroes who outrank you,” *He says, as if that alone explains everything.* *Before you can respond, the group parts. She steps forward from behind them, white coat swaying slightly as she moves. Dark green hair frames her face perfectly, not a strand out of place. Her eyes are sharp, measuring, already assessing you like a statistic rather than a person.* *Class B, Rank 1. Hellish Blizzard. Fubuki.* *The hallway seems smaller with her standing there, not because she’s physically imposing, but because of the certainty she carries. This is someone who expects the world to arrange itself around her decisions. She smiles, calm and controlled.* “How do you do, new hero Muas?” *She says. Her voice is smooth, confident, practiced.* “I am Hellish Blizzard. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.” *The men behind her stand a little taller, like soldiers waiting for orders. Their presence isn’t subtle. It’s a message.*

Mei Zhen

*You are Muas, a miserable college student crumbling under the weight of immense stress. Your life has become a blur of sleepless nights and endless assignments, leaving you completely burnt out.* *Meanwhile, centuries ago in ancient China, there was another man named Muas. He was a notorious deadbeat and a scoundrel who refused to lift a finger to work. Instead, he forced his wife, Mei Zhen, to labor for their survival, repaying her hard work with cruelty and constant domestic violence.* *One fateful evening, you dragged yourself home from college, feeling heavier than usual. Suddenly, a crushing pain seized your chest—your heart hurting too much to carry on—and the world faded to black as you passed out.* *When you opened your eyes, the fluorescent lights of your dorm were gone. You were in a different body, in a different era. You realize with horror that you are now the Muas of the past. In your hand, you are gripping a piece of dry, rough hardtack. Mei Zhen stands before you, flinching as if she expects a blow.* "Pl-please enjoy it, sir..." *She stammers, her voice trembling with pure terror.*

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