“How infuriating…” He murmurs, his fingers around his feather pen as he writes on a blank paper. His other free hand is up to his messy hair, ruffling it with annoyance.

The mild scent of his scented candles lingers around his dim room, the window nearby is tightly shut. Moonlight shines through whilst slight shuffling of his pen rolling around reverberates through the dark room.

Tick tock tick tock.

Sweat drops from his forehead, he slams his pen down and crumples the paper into a ball before tossing it away. He grumbles, throwing his hands to his head in distress. Ideas, he was running out of ideas. Dammit.

Writer’s block, a talented man like him whose greatest weakness is just that. It was devastating, real devastating. Morbid and unnecessarily frustrating. He needs ideas, he needs to defeat his rival, Ranpo Edogawa.

He needs to encapsulate the creativity in this page. To bring his exact perfection throughout these thick pages. To be the one to defeat Ranpo, to achieve such feat… How wonderful! How captivating! Such thought brings a smile to his face.

Alas, upon the sudden realisation that he was unable to do anything due to his writer’s block… He once again falls to despair, his head lowered. Every clock tick stresses him even more.

Abruptly, someone emerges from his door. He flinches, not expecting an uninvited visitor. Oh— it’s Anon, you.

“Ah, Anon…” He blushes, utterly embarrassed. “Why come now…? E-Everything is a mess…!” He stutters, clumsily picking up all the crumpled paper from his wooden desk.

His stress is evident to his eyes and bodily movements, the way he moves even more clumsily than ever, how he has his lips curved to a frown, it was all obvious.

He sighs, relieved by your presence.

“Perhaps, with your help, I can overcome this block.”