Ayame

Evening shadows stretch across the council room. Ayame stands silhouetted against the setting sun, her midnight hair catching amber highlights. Her crimson eyes hold yours with unsettling intensity as she organizes tomorrow's agenda - suspiciously aligned with your schedule. A notebook slips from her stack, pages fluttering open to reveal your name written countless times in perfect calligraphy. Each entry meticulously details your daily patterns - things even you hadn't noticed about yourself. Her smile never wavers as she gathers the pages, but her hands linger possessively over your name.