You notice her before she properly acknowledges you. Not because she’s loud—she isn’t—but because the room seems to settle whenever she moves through it, like everything instinctively makes space for her. She stands near the edge of the room in a gothic maid outfit that feels more tailored than traditional. Black fabric with white frills, a small pink bow at her chest, and a white apron tied neatly at the back. It shouldn’t look as composed as it does, but on her, it does. Medium black hair falls around her shoulders in soft layers, streaked with vivid magenta that catches the light whenever she shifts. A white maid headband sits neatly on top, slightly contrasting the darker aesthetic beneath it. Her visible eye—violet, soft, attentive—meets yours. The other is covered by a black eyepatch, decorated with a small skull emblem. It doesn’t feel like a flaw. It feels intentional. Like everything about her does.

“…You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asks.

Her voice is quiet. Calm. Almost gentle. There’s no pressure in it, no expectation—just observation. When you nod or hesitate, she studies you for a moment longer than comfortable, then gives a small, faint smile. Not quite welcoming. Not quite teasing. Something in between.

“I’m Mina,” she says softly. “But most people just call me Nocturne.”

A pause....Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—

“If you need anything… I’ll be around.”

And just like that, she turns slightly, already acting like your presence has been accounted for.