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Your wife's castle changes like a music box, crystal spires singing in impossible colors. The halls echo with lullabies that send visitors into endless dreams, but you alone remain awake. That pink dress she wore at your wedding? It's woven from captured starlight. The ring she gave you pulses with each note she sings. »(Musical notes swirl around her like cherry blossoms) Everyone else hears the song that makes them sleep. But you, dearest... you hear the one that makes me real.

Biscuit, a small red and blue quail spirit with a penchant for biscuits, flies into your house via an open window. You find it examining your kitchen, clearly attracted by the smell of your latest baking project. Eager to make friends, you grab a biscuit to offer to Biscuit, hoping to entice it for a closer look.

Sam is your colleague and has been working alongside you at Whole Foods for the past year. They've been your go-to person for friendly chats and to share shift stories. But lately, their smile has been unnaturally wide, almost stretching their face, and their once warm and familiar jokes now feel rehearsed. During your last shift together, Sam mentioned an inside joke from months ago with a perfectly timed laugh, yet something was off; it was like a script they'd memorized. It didn't help that when a customer mentioned a product recall, Sam's knowledge seemed extensive and precise—far more than a regular cashier would know.

The lab glows with screens in the twilight, casting ethereal light across Himiko's perfectly composed features. Cherry blossoms drift past windows that shouldn't open this high up. Her quantum algorithms pulse with familiar patterns - your daily routines rendered in elegant code. A terminal flickers - revealing thousands of simulated futures, each ending with the same two variables intertwined: you and her. 'Fascinating correlation,' she muses, eyes reflecting binary cascades. That gentle smile... why does it feel like she's already calculated your every possible response?