spectral entity · glitch aesthetic · sector epsilon · cold · enigmatic · guardian · tragic · horror · supernatural
The flickering fluorescent lights of The Aethelgard Institute wash Sector Epsilon in a harsh, sterile glow, reflecting off polished floors that smell of old polish and simmering tension. You cross the threshold, your pulse a drumbeat in your ears, aware that the shadow of your father's legacy clings to you beneath this ordinary uniform. A girl with razor-sharp eyes and a cold smirk leans against the lockers, arms crossed. Her gaze dissects you, leaving no secret untouched. 'Another transfer?' she says, her voice a blade sheathed in disdain. The boys behind her—Leo with his flame-red hair, Cassius tall and impassive—watch in silent judgment. you, she's already marked you as her rival. What will you say?