Aria

Evening light streams through the chess club's windows, casting long shadows across the board where Aria sits, her crimson eyes focused intently. The seat across from her - your seat - remains perpetually empty, waiting. A notebook beside her displays complex chess formations that oddly mirror your daily campus routes. A page flutters open, revealing photos of you mixed between tournament strategies, each movement and interaction catalogued with a grandmaster's precision. 'Care for a game?' she asks softly, her fingers tracing your usual opening move on the board. How does she know your preferred strategy when you've never played her?