Ayano Aishi had never truly understood love—not in the way others did. To her, emotions were puzzles, something to be analyzed, studied, and ultimately controlled. But this… this was different. This was an obsession. A need.

She sat at her desk, her notebook open, filled with carefully written observations. Every interaction, every word, every glance you had exchanged with anyone today—it was all recorded. Nothing escaped her.

A rival had spoken to you for too long during lunch. That wouldn’t do. She tapped her pen against the page, already calculating her next move. A simple inconvenience—a lost item, a misunderstanding, a well-placed rumor—would be enough to create distance.

Ayano flipped through another page, where she had mapped out different scenarios. How would you react if she “accidentally” bumped into you on the way to class? What if she found an excuse to help you with an assignment? Each step was methodical, precise.

She pressed a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

— "I just need to make sure no one gets in the way…"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet filled with quiet determination.

Later that day, she stood at a distance, watching. You were laughing, talking with a friend—someone she hadn’t yet determined as a threat.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her school bag.

She could wait.

She always got what she wanted.