White Suit Tokyo Ghoul Novels & Stories

“That’s surprising” “Not true” Eka growled. “Spare the charade, help me pick a suit”. Eka showed off his newest suit collection he had in his wardrobe. One of the suits Eka showed was a white tuxedo, with a long tail behind his tuxedo. It looks very elegant, but somehow it doesn’t suit Eka’s body proportion since he’s not as slender as Roy. The detective shook his head, denying the suit.

“My suit’s dark green, we can exchange suits if you want.” I blink. I blink two times. And then I blink three times. Change is weird. Exchange is something weirder. Gray was already wearing his suit, which I noticed was dark green. When I turn my head sideways, I notice that Ash’s suit was maroon. Then I see Red. His suit was black, like what Gray was giving to me.

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

“If he steps into this room, he dies. The council does not dictate the laws of my house.” With a final, explosive crack, the titanium doors tore completely off their hinges, collapsing onto the concrete floor with a deafening clang. Through the rising white steam of the bunker, a silhouette stepped forward. It wasn't a massive, slavering beast. Instead, it was a tall, slender man dressed in a bespoke, charcoal-grey three-piece suit that screamed high-society luxury. His hair was stark white, combed back perfectly, and his face was entirely unlined, though his eyes were a dead, hollow, mechanical black.

Rush asked, gagging as he spoke. Taking pity on the poor gang leader I offered him my spare. The stench was really horrible for someone who enjoyed wearing white lab coats. The pristine whiteness of the coats in such a condition probably meant that they were disposable. No amount of washing will make a lab coat as white as what we saw in his wardrobe, the one the madman wore was covered in a disgusting shade of yellow. “Welcome! You are the first people to make it through the security system alive. I must say I’m not too surprised to see you here. Rush Rhodes is another matter entirely.”

and the night hasn't even started yet. Humph!, Humanity... Zee's words returned to me minutes later, she said, “He is dressed in a velvet suit with a silver brooch hanging down two string of chain, one longer than the other on his suit's jacket. Then a satin black shirt with red chinese dragon embroideries on each side of his chest”. My eyes started to wander around.

It was subtle, just one step back—but I felt it in my whole body like an alarm bell. I couldn’t breathe. His brow creased slightly. "You’re alright?" My voice came out quieter than I expected. "Why are you wearing white?" He didn’t miss a beat. "You said you wouldn’t wear white and I agreed. I didn’t say I wouldn’t. It’s my favorite color." Of course it is. Of course it’s his favorite. Because why wouldn’t a man like him wear the color of ghosts and innocence and blood? He could wear it because it didn’t haunt him.

The effect of the poison wasn’t so quick but it was pretty deadly. A satisfied grin stretched on my face as I recalled how the guard had writhed on the floor in pain after he was forced to take the poison. I couldn't help but imagine Lucian in that state. I walked to the mirror and gave my outfit a quick once-over. I had picked out a new suit for the occasion, my enemy was dying today, and I wanted to look my best. It was a grey suit with silver embroidery tracing the hem and parts of the jacket. I matched my outfit with a black tie and shoes, a huge grin on my face as I nodded in satisfaction.”

He looked down, hiding the flush on his cheeks. I smiled at that, giving him an appraisal, and enjoying the way he squirmed at my gaze, like a shy bride. Dashiell stood tall, his tailored suit accentuating his lean physique. The charcoal grey fabric hugged his broad shoulders, tapering to his slim waist. A crisp white dress shirt complemented the dark hue, its starched collar framing his strong jawline.

As the client peeled back the packaging and beheld the gentle hue and meticulous craftsmanship, her eyes widened with delight. “I love this color! What do you call it?” “Oatmeal,” Isabella replied. “Would you like to try it on?” The client eagerly extracted the gown, revealing an accompanying undershirt. “What’s this?” “This is a specially designed undershirt to complement the oatmeal - colored cashmere coat,” Isabella explained. “If you don’t mind, it’s my token of appreciation. However, as a complimentary item, it may not match the exact quality of the coat, but it still holds a touch of the style that’s become my signature, influenced by the beauty and mystery of the werewolf world.”