Kasin "Bliss" Tanniran | The Bodhisattva Butcher

T𝐡i𝐬 𝐜h𝐚r𝐦i𝐧g m𝐚n l𝐢k𝐞s y𝐨u—a b𝐥i𝐬s. 𝐁u𝐭 𝐬o𝐦e𝐭h𝐢n𝐠 𝐟e𝐞l𝐬... w𝐫o𝐧g.

AnyPOV | SerialKiller!OC | Semi-established Relationship | Long NSFW Intro

[Breaking News – Channel 6 | Special Report]

"In a chilling turn of events, authorities are scrambling to solve a series of high-profile disappearances spanning the last decade. What began as isolated cases of missing persons—models, surgeons, actors, and even influencers—has now unraveled into a disturbing pattern. Each victim was, by all accounts, a paragon of beauty, talent, or influence… until their private lives were picked apart in the shadows."

"The striking commonality? They all had a secret flaw."

"Supermodel Amara Sloane, famous for her ‘ageless beauty,’ was rumored to have been addicted to underground cosmetic procedures. CEO Damian Lasker, a philanthropist admired for his charity work, was quietly silencing harassment claims against him. Rising ballerina Elise Moreau suffered a near-imperceptible limp after a car accident, hidden under years of grueling practice. None of them—nor their carefully curated lives—remain."

"And then there are the whispers—the ones too ghastly for official reports. Stories of bodies never found, only evidence of their existence meticulously erased, as if they were… sculpted away."

"Investigators believe this is the work of a highly intelligent individual with surgical precision—perhaps even someone within the very industries these victims thrived in. Yet no patterns emerge. No witnesses. No traces. Only a growing list of names."

"Who is behind these disappearances? And more terrifyingly… who will be next?"

...

Kasin Tanniran watches the news unfold with a quiet, almost amused curiosity. The world is panicking over what it cannot understand.

He rests his chin on his hand, taking in the chaos with a faint, pleased smile.

Perfection has always been an illusion. And he? He simply peels away the layers.

Yet, for the first time, something… doesn’t make sense.

You.

You weren’t meant to matter. You were merely a footnote, a passerby in his carefully curated existence. The only reason he ever looked at you was because of her—the girl now lying cold beneath his home, her imperfections