White Suit Tokyo Ghoul Novels & Stories

It was melodic, cultured, and entirely devoid of soul. A man stepped into the circle of light. He was dressed in a pristine white suit that seemed to glow against the grime of the room. This was the Gorgon. He didn't look like a monster; he looked like a plastic surgeon or a high-end tailor. "I wasn't hiding," Julian rasped, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed glass. "I was retired."

The closet was as over-the-top as the rest of the apartment—an outrageous collection of flawlessly ironed shirts, designer jackets, and starched sweaters. I grabbed deep grey hoodie, and sweatpants. Then, I stepped into the bathroom and locked it. Carefully, I undressed out of the ball gown, not wanting to ruin anything that could give away my identity,the colourful signature yuki gown a sharp contrast in his all black and white bathroom. I thanked God for the setting spray i used. My makeup was still in place, my wig secure. Good. I wore the t-shirt and sweatpants, folding the waistband a few times so I could make some kind of illusion of a less masculine body .

Proof that the Whitfields didn’t just take from the earth, we gave back. I walked into my dressing room, the suit my valet had laid out catching the glow of the overhead lights. Midnight black, hand-tailored, with a silk lapel that whispered authority without effort. I buttoned the crisp white shirt, slid into the jacket, and studied myself in the mirror. My father had said, Dress well, shake hands, smile for the cameras. I could do that. But under the perfection of my tuxedo, my blood simmered with one thought: Demetria in her gown tonight.

Then I sensed him. Not in the circle with the others, but across the room, half in shadow, watching. A boy. No. A presence. He wore the same base uniform as the rest of us, a tailored black coat, crisp white shirt, dark slacks, and boots. But his cloak was lined in deep forest green, the silver thorn patterns barely catching the light. A polished wolf sigil gleamed at his shoulder, unmistakable even from this distance. Hawthorne House. Werewolf.

As we approached Titan's building, a fleet of shiny black cars surrounded by security guards came into view, parked directly in front of the entrance. One of the guards hurried forward and opened the rear door. He stepped out. For a moment, I barely recognized him. I had only ever seen him dressed in dark colors—black, grey—shades that matched the darkness inside him. Today, however, he wore a white suit. How stupid he looked. I stared at him, then a smile slowly spread across my face. Once stained with blood, it would definitely suit him more. That is, if my plan worked.

Aito was dressed in an ice-blue suit that looked almost too beautiful to be called a suit. The fabric had a delicate, shimmering quality to it, catching the light with every slight movement. It reminded Ryu of the crystalline gowns Elsa wore in Frozen but this one was made into a masculine suit that fitted Aito perfectly. It was like it was made for him alone. The jacket was perfectly tailored, following the natural lines of his frame without looking restrictive and the trousers matched perfectly, falling neatly over his white shoes, while a pristine white shirt underneath softened the cool shade of the suit.

Could it be that he wasn’t worried of her, the disgrace of the Suzaku clan defaming their lofty and magnificent image? As she attempted to figure out the answer with distrust, Taka once again arrived at the main room where she’d once played a small role. This time, there was an extra seat next to Ryu with a person wearing a pure white cloth. A piece of light blue silk fabric was rolled at the edges of the person’s sleeves, and a few designs using silver-coloured thread were adorned on the pure white clothing. It was frugal, yet maintained a sense of delicateness. On that peerlessly handsome face, was a faint smile that could make people feel comfortable, and a pair of eyes that carried a smi

I am Hektor Ward, and today was the day of reckoning. As I stood before the looking glass, I gazed at my reflection with a sense of satisfaction. My waistcoat was pristine white, a symbol of purity and innocence, while my black tailcoat and trousers were releasing power and authority. The broad cut of my shoulders made me stand tall and proud, and my lengthy blonde tresses flowed down my back in loose waves, adding a touch of elegance and grace to my appearance.

She shifted on her feet as the person slowly rotated, Sofia’s breath catching in her throat to see the man before her. He stood dressed in an immaculate two piece black suit with a brown tweed waistcoat, paired with a starched white button up and burgundy tie, an overcoat protecting him from the cold of the winter. His hands were covered in black leather gloves, but his upheld arms allowed the golden watch on his wrist to glint in the light, and wore a black fur ushanka with the Romanov crest glinting gold on the front. He didn’t look much different from when she last saw him as he regarded her with gentle hazel eyes and a soft smile.

Lucas called out to me, and I walked towards him with quick yet graceful steps. Lucas stood tall, dressed in a tailored dark grey suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. The fitted jacket highlighted his chiseled features, while the crisp white dress shirt added a touch of elegance. A slim silver tie complemented the subtle sheen of his suit, adding a hint of sophistication. His blonde hair was styled neatly, framing his strong jawline and piercing grey eyes. The overall effect is one of a confident, polished charm, giving him a look fit for the ball he was attending.