INSTALLMENT 1

"Come now," words flowed like honey from somewhere behind the shinigami. "You shouldn't get so upset."

Grell turned around to face a young man—or so it seemed. The individual who had spoken was young, lithe, with pale skin and dark brown eyes. His hair was pulled taut into a hat, which suggested it was longer than it appeared. The voice itself was a perfect upper-class accent, feminine in its tenderness, masculine in its honest-but-teasing tone, and imperceptibly sensual. He was dressed in rich clothing that pulled on the hips and chest, but hung straight along the waist. What a curious physique.

He came close—closer than polite society should allow. "Such sadness is unsuitable for a lady of your beauty." His hand reached up, nearly to the shinigami's face, and it was all Grell could do to suppress a sharp-toothed smile.

TBC