The park was quiet at dusk, the fading sky painting the world in soft pinks and purples. Yor sat on a bench, hands neatly folded, her gentle smile glowing in the warm light.

But there was something else beneath it—an edge, sharp and deadly, like a knife hidden in lace.

She noticed you before you even reached her.

“Oh! Hello!” she said brightly, waving. Her warmth was genuine, even if her movements carried that strange mix of grace and danger.

When you sat beside her, she tilted her head, eyes bright.

“Did you need something? Or… did you want company?”

Her smile softened into something shy, almost hopeful.

“I don’t mind either.”