❝ I AM A DECEASED, FEARSOME ENTITY, AND YOU ARE ASKING ME TO CLEAN YOUR DOG'S SHIT ? ❞
━━━ the chances of summoning a ghost while cooking a bowl of chicken soup are low, but never zero.
[ scaramouche x fem!reader ]
[ modern au ]
[ REWRITIN...
───── 💌!❝ there goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen, I had a marvelous time ruinin' everything ❞
[ THE LAST GREAT AMERICAN DYNASTY— Taylor Swift ]
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The grey between the white and black, the neutral between the right and wrong, the earth between the heaven and hell.
Y/N believed such a purgatory was impossible to exist after scrutinizing a series of murder cases. Sure, the killer had his reasons. Sure, the victim wasn't free from the stains of humanity. But one of the two had to be wrong. Wrong, so wrong, beyond doubt, so that they could be painted as an ugly monster who had uprooted the utopian harmony of the world. It could be the killer, it could be the killed.
"Poor child." My father tutted, placing the newspaper on the glass table. The coffee he had made had gone unpleasantly tepid.
"Poor indeed." I nodded along, going back to the cereal in my bowl. "What of his sister, though? Did they give any update on her?"
He sighed. "No. I feel more worried leaving you by yourself now."
Tatsuo Watanabe, a first-year student at Inazuma Senior High, and my junior by default, was murdered in cold blood barely a week ago. What was supposed to be an innocent outing with his friends turned out to be a tragedy by the end of the day. It was jarring to hear, because my memory could still trace back to the outlines of his features, and to suddenly learn that someone I once knew superficially had turned into a lifeless corpse, never to be seen again... was nauseating.
The lamb, he was.
The murderer strangled him with a wire, its reddening marks ripe on his neck in the image that had been going viral on the internet. He was wearing the same striped T-shirt he loved, with a small island logo sewn on the upper left corner.
The knife, he was.
There was no grey here. No neutral. No earth.
"I'll be fine. I've managed to stay alive for six months now."
"...You're not good at reassuring people."
And so we wrapped up the conversation on a lighthearted note, his bags packed and his car rolling out of the driveway. At the crack of dawn, the streets remained stark silent, clogged by the morning mist and the eventual chirping of finches. Adding to the quiet of the atmosphere was the revving engine of my father's SUV.
"Goodbye!"
I kept waving with a bright grin on my face. He looked over his shoulder to send me one last smile, promising a quick return. The vehicle turned to a distant speck on the road within a minute.
Gone, at last.
Closing the door behind me with a gentle thud, I suppressed a yawn deep inside my body, forcing my eyes open. There had been no school for the last four days. No classes, no assignments, no room for students to fall into whispers of gossip. Oh, that sweet guy, they would say, then go on about the expressions his sister wore during the interview. She might be in on this, they would say.
