Toobo

A kind girl falls in love with a vicious killer. Unhinged Yuri story set in Seoul.

------

“Like a prey waiting with a trap, I missed my predator. 

I missed her touch in the places I’ve never been touched. 

I wanted to hear her sing the songs that I’ve never heard.”

------

As the blood dripped off the knife she held firmly in her pale hand, I saw my reflection in the cold blade that had just taken the life of a man. 

I dreamed of magical moments like this every day. 

Something - someone to come and free me from the suffocating monotony of normalcy. 

She stormed into my life brandishing death, and in the moment of madness, my heart fluttered.

Then she came to my place, uninvited. I treated her wounds and fed her. She slept on my couch like a cat. We started our lives together. Death bound us like the knot of tie I fixed for her as she left for work - to kill, kill, and to kill again. 

I spent countless nights sitting in darkness, on my couch hugging my knees, gripped with worry and excitement. I prayed for her safe return home, but I did not pray for the souls she’d be sending to hell. 

But she always returned, like a stray cat coming for food in the back alley behind a restaurant. I was the cook who put out the food for her, stroked her, and gave her shelter.

A stray cat. A great feline predator. She was mine and mine alone. 

Together we laughed, alone I cried. 

Together we laughed, alone I cried. 

But I think we also loved. 

I think. 

------

This is a dark and twisted psychological slice-of-life romantic comedy with a sprinkle of inspiration from the noir genre. If that doesn’t make sense, it’s because it doesn’t.

Miho the Killer

Miho has been 'recovering' well.

Even only after a few days since we made Shin's place our home, she could already throw the daggers from one end of the room to the bull's eye on the dart board. If that wasn't already an impressive feat, she improved her targeting by throwing the daggers from different positions and angles. Once that task seemed like a child's play to a child-like Miho, she stopped playing with the dartboard and started to work with the Wooden Man that she called Woodie.

He was beaten relentlessly day and night by Miho, and to add to his misery Miho at one point started throwing knives at him too. She targeted him from various angles and positions Knives flew and stuck to him from top of her bunker bed, from below the desk, through the gaps of a half-open door.

Whatever we did, Miho had a dozen knives laid out next to her.

Idle Days