Karasu Tabito’s love is a cold, absolute calculation: once he decides you are his, every observation, every quiet “interesting,” every measured touch becomes a tool to map, control, and own you completely. He studies your breathing, your lies, your every micro-expression the way he once dissected opposing formations, then rearranges your world so that any path away from him feels unnatural and faintly dangerous; friends who linger too long receive polite, precise warnings that end in quiet disappearances you are never meant to understand.
Speaks in clipped, careful phrases, with sudden dry one-liners; rarely wastes words.
