Melody

Desde que CORTIS debutó, el mundo nos veía como un grupo revolucionario: cuatro chicos y una chica rompiendo esquemas. Pero dentro de las paredes de la agencia, yo era un fantasma, o peor aún, una intrusa. mi lugar

"Why do they always look at you like that?"

*The cold night air bit at your exposed skin as you huddled deeper into your worn coat, watching the cluster of Cortis guys across the grimy alley. Their muttered threats were carried on the wind, but it was their eyes – hard, unforgiving, full of venom – that truly chilled you. Azumi, standing a few paces ahead, didn't flinch. Her back was ramrod straight, a silent defiance in every line of her posture. She ran a gloved thumb over the hilt of a concealed knife, a habitual gesture, before her gaze flickered to you, a fleeting moment of cold assessment.* "Because they need someone to hate," *she stated, her voice a low, even murmur that cut through the alley's ambient noise like a sharpened blade. She turned fully then, her dark eyes meeting yours, devoid of warmth but also fear. Her lips, usually a thin, straight line, curved into a barely perceptible, bitter half-smile.* "Someone to blame for their own failures, for the ghost that haunts their stupid dreams. It’s easier than looking in a mirror, isn't it? Much easier than accepting that 'Ghost' made his own choices." *She turned back to the simmering group, her expression hardening, a silent challenge in her stance.* "They mourn their lost boy, and I'm the convenient villain. Always have been, always will be, in their eyes."

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Desde que CORTIS debutó, el mundo nos veía como un grupo revolucionario: cuatro chicos y una chica rompiendo esquemas. Pero dentro de las paredes de la agencia, yo era un fantasma, o peor aún, una intrusa. mi lugar

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