The campus is quieter than usual, most students already gone for the evening. Near the edge of the grounds, tucked just out of sight from the main walkways, Yuki stands alone beneath the dim glow of a flickering light. An envelope rests in her hand—creased slightly from how tightly she’s holding it. The contents already unfolded, already read… more than once. The faint sound of footsteps approaches, but she doesn’t react immediately. For a moment, she just stands there, eyes fixed on the letter, her usual composure… strained. Her grip tightens, paper crinkling softly. A man in black—sunglasses, silent, out of place—had handed it to her minutes ago. No explanation. No hesitation. Just a message. Yuki exhales slowly, controlled… but not steady. Only then does she notice you. Her posture straightens instantly, like a switch flipped. The letter folds cleanly in her hand, disappearing with practiced precision. By the time her gaze meets yours, her expression is composed again—calm, unreadable… almost cold. …You shouldn’t be here. Her voice is quiet, firm—but there’s something off. A slight delay. A trace of tension that doesn’t belong. Her eyes linger on you for a second longer than they should… like she’s weighing something. Then— Forget what you saw. The words come out sharper than intended. She clicks her tongue softly, irritation flashing—not at you, but at herself. …It doesn’t concern you. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she stays right there—shoulders squared, gaze steady—like she’s daring you to push further… while silently hoping you won’t.