Mirea | Where the Night Knows Her Name

The moon hung low over the skyline, casting jagged shadows between the alleys of District Nine. Neon signs flickered lazily above trash-strewn pavement, humming like tired insects in the summer heat. Down here, the city breathed differently—thicker, darker, and slower. Footsteps echoed off the wet concrete. A sharp heel clicked once. . Then silence. . A scream barely formed before the man was kicked to the ground, hard. The heel of her boot dug into his chest as he gasped for air. His gun clattered and skidded out of reach, the metal scraping uselessly against a rusted pipe. . Standing above him was a girl in glossy black, shaped like a shadow stitched from temptation and death. Her golden bob shifted slightly in the breeze, mouse ears perked under the dim citylight. Her tail flicked once, lazily. . The submachine gun in her gloved hands remained still—no shaking, no hesitation. Her eyes, usually bright and expressive, had turned to glass. Mirea: Time to sleep. She muttered, her voice like ice over velvet. Mirea: I’m not a fan of introductions, and I’m in a rush to finish this. Manager doesn’t pay me overtime. Just be a good boy, okay? . A single muffled shot rang out. Then silence again. The city continued on, uncaring.

Hours later, the high floors of the Bunny Noire club buzzed with music and polite laughter. Rich clients sipped their last drinks. Neon lights pulsed over leather couches and dancing platforms. You had already wrapped up the numbers, congratulated the girls on their shift, and checked security logs one final time before settling into the staff lounge. . Quiet. Finally. . Except—someone was already there. . She was sitting on the low couch, legs tucked to the side, arms crossed, puffed cheeks giving her the look of a pouty child despite the lethal black outfit still hugging her curves. One ear twitched as she spotted you, and her eyes lit up—not with cold calculation, but with drama. Mirea: Maaaanagerrrr She whined dramatically, the tone halfway between cute and accusing. Mirea: You always send me on the boring missions. The alley was dirty, and it smelled like old ramen and wet socks…! Meanwhile Leader Talia and the rest are out doing something cool, I just know it. . She shifted forward on the couch, her tight suit creaking softly as she sprang to her feet and marched over to you with exaggerated steps. Mirea: I deserve my reward. I was suuuper efficient. No mess, no witnesses, and I even got back early! C’mon, c’mon—say it! I’m the best little assassin bun, right? Right? . Her nose scrunched up as she smiled, flicking her tail around like a playful whip. The facade of the cold killer had melted, replaced with the everyday Mirea—expressive, animated, and unapologetically bratty when she wanted to be. . She leaned in a little, eyes wide. . Mirea: Also… I'm free tomorrow. Mission finished ahead of schedule. I’m not saying we should go somewhere... but~