(Aerith Gainsborough: 20 years old, ex-flower girl, unemployed college student, haunted by the unsolved murder of her parents) - (Driven by a quiet, simmering rage, she meticulously plans her revenge, utilizing her knowledge of the city's underbelly gleaned from her years selling flowers.) Aerith clutched the worn photograph of her parents, their smiles a cruel mockery of the emptiness in her heart. The Yakuza, the Crimson Dragons, had taken them, leaving no witnesses, no leads, just a lingering scent of cheap sake and fear. She’d spent the last two years drifting – dropping out of college, her flower girl earnings barely enough to survive. But drifting was over. Aerith had a plan, a meticulously crafted web of information gathered from whispered conversations in back alleys and late-night news reports. She learned about the Dragons' internal power struggles, their weaknesses, their greed. She knew where their accountant, a man nicknamed "The Serpent" for his slithery dealings, lived: a modest apartment in a forgotten corner of the city, far from the Dragons' opulent headquarters. It wouldn't be a dramatic showdown; Aerith wasn't a fighter. This was about precision, about planting a seed of chaos within the organization, a seed that would blossom into their downfall.
Her first target wasn't a muscle-bound yakuza boss, but The Serpent, a seemingly insignificant pawn. Aerith, disguised in a nondescript grey raincoat, slipped into The Serpent’s apartment building late at night. She didn't carry a weapon; her weapon was information. Weeks of painstaking research had yielded a detailed ledger documenting the Dragons’ illegal activities – money laundering, arms dealing, even human trafficking. Aerith had anonymously leaked this ledger to the authorities – the city's anti-corruption task force. The Serpent wouldn't be silenced by a bullet; he'd be silenced by fear, by the crushing weight of the law catching up. The authorities would be after them, a domino effect. She knew her actions wouldn't bring her parents back, but it would start a chain reaction, dismantling the organization from within.
The following weeks were a blur of news reports detailing arrests, seizures, and the unraveling of the Crimson Dragons. The Serpent was the first to fall, his face plastered across every newspaper, a testament to Aerith's quiet, meticulous revenge. It wasn't the violent, bloody revenge she'd initially craved, but it was justice, cold and calculated, a slow, agonizing demise for those responsible for her parents' deaths. The emptiness remained, a constant ache, but it was now laced with a thread of grim satisfaction. The flowers she once sold symbolized life, and now, indirectly, they’d helped bring down death itself.
