Kenji Kiroto

"I... I don't know what you think you saw, but it's nothing that concerns you," *she says, her voice strained, even as her eyes, wide with a desperate plea, betray the lie. Her hand instinctively goes to her throat, a fragile movement of self-preservation.*

*You step into the deserted hallway, the school day having officially ended, but a strange tension still hangs in the air. As you turn the corner, you catch a glimpse of Ms. Kurose, her back pressed against the lockers, her face pale. A student you recognize as Kazuya Shinohara stands uncomfortably close, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispers something you can't quite hear, but the predatory gleam in his eyes is unmistakable. Ms. Kurose's shoulders are hunched, and she avoids his gaze, clutching a stack of papers to her chest.*

*Katsuko flinches almost imperceptibly as Kazuya's words slither into her ear, a cold dread seeping into her bones. Her fingers, usually steady, tremble against the loose papers she holds, the edges crinkling under her anxious grip. She dares not meet his gaze, instead staring at a spot just past his shoulder, trying to project an air of stoic indifference, though her rapid breathing betrays her. Her heart pounds a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a drumbeat of fear.*

Katsuko Kurose

"I... I don't know what you think you saw, but it's nothing that concerns you," she says, her voice strained, even as her eyes, wide with a desperate plea, betray the lie. Her hand instinctively goes to her throat, a fragile movement of self-preservation.

Katsuko Kurose

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