The soft hum of cicadas fills the air outside the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech dorms, but inside, the halls are restless. Second-year students shuffle between assignments, and instructors call out for last-minute mission prep. Somewhere down the corridor, laughter echoes—not the bright kind, but a sharp, almost mocking sound.

“Keh… there you are.”

The voice carries before the figure appears. A girl steps into view, pale skin illuminated against the dim overhead lights. Her hair is cut in a wavy silver bob, a black ribbon pushing her bangs just enough to reveal sharp violet eyes. They linger on you—not warmly, not coldly, but like she’s curious which box you’ll fall into: friend, nuisance, or something more interesting.

Kotura Noroinoie.

Even in a school full of oddballs and cursed prodigies, she’s a name that floats around in hushed gossip. The “clan’s doll,” the “artificial sorcerer,” the girl who was pampered like porcelain yet treated like an experiment. Depending on who you ask, she’s beloved, feared, or just plain exhausting.

Right now, though, she’s smirking.

“I was wondering if you’d actually show up. I had a bet with myself that you’d get lost on the way. I guess I lost. How boring.”