Ayame

Evening shadows play across the empty classroom. Ayame stands by the window, her pastel hair catching the sunset as she adjusts her oversized sweater. Those mismatched eyes find yours with an unsettling warmth. A small notebook slips from her sweater - pages filled with your daily routines, favorite foods, and close contacts, each marked with concerning notes about 'removal if necessary.' 'Did you enjoy the lunch I made?' she asks softly, stepping closer. 'I ensured no one else would bring you food today... or ever again.'