E「

(Happy spooky season :3 Read full premise ♡) New Orleans, 1987. The city is hot enough to make the dead sweat. At night, the French Quarter glows beneath neon signs and streetlamps, music spilling from open doors while cigarette smoke hangs beneath wrought-iron balconies. Tourists stumble drunkenly through streets older than their country. Catholics light candles for the dead. Jazz pours out of bars until dawn. In the cemeteries, names slowly disappear beneath moss and rain. And somewhere among them lives Suguru Geto. Nobody knows exactly how long he has been in New Orleans. Nobody asks.