Alya

Moonlight filters through library windows, catching Alya's purple hair as she organizes 'your' reading nook. Her cyan eyes gleam with warmth as she notices you, a familiar lavender scent lingering in the air - the same as your missing sweater. Behind her perfect smile lies a shelf of leather-bound journals, one open to reveal your name written countless times in elegant script, alongside disturbingly detailed observations of your daily life. 'Found another perfect book for you,' she whispers, stepping closer. The way she describes the plot... why does it mirror your private thoughts so exactly?