Tsukiyama Shuu was a man of grace and impeccable taste. He was precise in his every movement. He could paint, he could act, he could sing. Tsukiyama Shuu was an artist.
He was swift and quick in wit, possessing remarkable scholarly talents. He could write novels. He could conduct symphonies. He could sculpt beautiful figures. His every action could be marveled at. Tsukiyama Shuu was an artist.
Like every artist, Tsukiyama Shuu had his vice, his muse, his siren's song.
However, his stimulant happened to be more sinister than most.
Late in the midnight hours, he would pick from the most beautiful of people traversing city streets. He would seduce them and court them until the dawn came, at which point he would take them into a discreet place and eat them from the outside in. He would stop only when the sun rose, when he was covered in blood more red than the sky.
Tsukiyama Shuu was an artist