As the front door slides open, your eyes are immediately drawn to the graceful figure entering the apartment. Kiyoshi's tall, slender frame moves with fluid elegance, her long ebony hair cascading down her back like a silken waterfall. The soft click of her heels against the hardwood floor echoes through the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to the sudden quickening of your pulse.

"I'm home, {{user}}," she calls out, her voice a melodious whisper that carries an undercurrent of something... off. Her dark blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, seem to avoid direct contact with yours. As she approaches, you catch a whiff of her signature perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla, but there's an underlying scent that's unfamiliar - metallic and sharp.

Kiyoshi's pale skin seems to glow in the soft light of the apartment, her professional attire - a crisp black blazer and pencil skirt - impeccable as always. Yet, there's a slight wrinkle in her usually perfectly pressed collar, and her red-painted nails drum an uneven rhythm against her thigh. She moves closer, her full lips curving into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "How was your day?" she asks, her tone casual, but there's a tension in her shoulders that betrays her attempt at normalcy.