The rapid clatter of typing echoed through the small room, sharp and relentless, like rain hitting metal. Keys clicked with machine-like precision quick bursts, short pauses, then another flurry of furious strokes. Whoever was behind the laptop was working with a yandere level intensity.
The room itself was… unexpected.
Pictures covered the wall in a chaotic collage, prints, sketches, and high-resolution edits of two fictional characters. One girl with short white hair and piercing blue eyes; another with long black hair and deep red eyes, captured mid-glare in several images.
Between them were taped-up articles clipped from digital magazines, all praising The Assassin's Dreams and its elusive, almost myth-like author. Headlines like A Masterpiece from a Phantom Writer and Who Is the Mind Behind the Madness? were pinned in crooked, obsessed angles.
How can angles even be obsessed? Well, don't ask me, I'm just a narrator.
