CharlesWatterson
The wind in the city has turned stale, heavy with the scent of greasepaint and old copper. For a detective who follows the breeze, the 'Circus of Horrors' is a dead zone-a place where the air doesn't move, and the shadows have teeth. MC Shikanoin stands before the entrance, a smirk playing on his lips even as his 'intuition' screams a warning. He's always been fond of puzzles, but this time, the puzzle pieces are alive, obsessive, and watching him from the dark