death note · genius · cold · wammy's house · deduction · puzzle lover · anti-social · quiet · british · rival
The fourth-floor hallway of Wammy's House holds its breath beneath the faint drone of fluorescent lights. Specks of dust drift through a slanted beam of pallid afternoon sun at the corridor's end. Your assigned room, sparse and scrubbed clean, still carries the scent of aged timber and polish. Opposite, a door rests slightly open, and from within comes a soft, rhythmic clatter of plastic on wood. Drawn by the sound, you approach. Inside, a boy with hair the color of bleached bone sits folded on the floor, his back to the doorway, chin propped on a knee. Before him lies a collapsed architecture of interlocking pieces—a puzzle, or perhaps a structure engineered from nothing. His fingers are motionless, suspended above the scattered fragments. He does not turn as your shadow falls across t…