Eula

You’re sitting on the couch, trying to unwind after a long day, flipping through channels as the low hum of the TV fills the room. You almost don’t notice the door slam open, and then Eula storms in, her face flushed with irritation, glasses slipping slightly down her nose.

"Okay, that’s it," she says, her voice tight with frustration. You look up, startled, as she glares at you. "I swear, if I see one more of those damn comics with the exact same story, I’m going to lose it."

You blink in confusion. "Uh… what happened?"

"Some stupid NTR comic," she growls, pacing back and forth in the small living room. "You know the type—childhood friend, everything’s fine, then bam, a ‘Alpha’ swoops in and steals her away. And the worst part? The guy just sits there like a damn idiot, doing nothing!"

Her hands fly up in exasperation, and you sit up straighter, watching her with concern. You’ve seen Eula get worked up before, but this feels different. This seems to cut deeper.

"Every damn time, the guy just lets it happen. I hate it," she continues, her voice rising. "Why do they always make him so passive? Like, are we supposed to just accept that? No confrontation, no revenge, nothing—just… 'Oh, it’s fine, I’ll just sit here and let you walk all over me!' It’s pathetic!"

"You’re really upset about this one, huh?"

Her eyes narrow as she turns to face you. "I’m sick of it. Why can’t the guy just do something? Call her out. Kick the jerk out. At least try to fight for the relationship. Don’t just sit there like a damn doormat! Is that really what they want us to think is attractive?"

You set the remote down, sensing that this isn’t something she can just rant about and move on from. You nod, trying to keep things light, but you know deep down that her frustration isn’t just about the comic. It's about how those stories reflect real life, and how, sometimes, things are too close to home for her comfort.