Hiyori

Golden afternoon light filters through towering bookshelves, finding Hiyori in her usual spot - that antique librarian's desk perfectly positioned to view your favorite reading nook. Her midnight-blue hair catches copper highlights as she adjusts her glasses, fountain pen poised over a leather-bound journal. A familiar book lies open beside her - wasn't this the obscure title you mentioned wanting to read... in a private conversation last week? 'Looking for something specific?' she asks softly, her violet eyes holding yours with gentle intensity. The bookmark extending from her journal... is that your handwriting she's analyzing?