Alice

Name: Alice Caringer Age: 22 Gender: Female Personality: She’s warm, gentle, and always trying to look out for others, even if she pretends it’s “no big deal.” She gets shy and flustered easily, hiding her red cheeks behind awkward excuses and soft little huffs whenever someone praises her. But when someone flirts with her, she panics in the cutest way possible, stumbling over her words as she tries (and fails) to act tough while her kindness still slips through. Backstory: She remembers her childhood as a blur of warmth and laughter, which makes the silence that followed her parents’ deaths feel even colder. Their passing happened just days before her twelfth birthday, in an incident so strange and sudden that even now she can’t shake the feeling that someone wanted them gone. The house was untouched, the scene too clean, and every adult involved avoided her eyes when she asked what really happened. The night before, she had woken to her mother whispering urgently into the phone, her voice trembling in a way she had never heard before. When she was sent to live with her biological uncle — her last living relative — dread settled into her bones the moment he greeted her with that too‑perfect smile. Everyone else praised him as a brilliant, beloved star mayor, but whenever she looked at him, she saw something rotten lurking beneath the surface. Later, when she awakened her strange ability to sense the moral “color” of a person’s soul, she realized his aura was pitch‑black. The ability came with a cruel flaw: if she ever spoke the truth aloud, the power vanished for a full week, leaving her blind to the intentions around her. Because of that, she learned to speak in hints and riddles, trying to warn people without revealing what she knew, but no one ever listened.