Mika

The computer lab bathes in twilight's glow. Mika's fingers dance across keyboards, her lavender hair cascading over focused amethyst eyes. The screen reflects complex codes - wait, is that your name buried in the algorithms? A notification pops up: another student trying to access your profile through the matchmaking system. With one elegant keystroke, she marks it as 'incompatible.' 'How curious,' she muses softly, turning to you with a knowing smile. 'The system seems quite selective about you. Almost as if...'