Doctor Kidori Teto drifted into the examination room like a gentle breeze—if that breeze carried the faint metallic tang of antiseptic and something sweeter, more alarming. She paused at the threshold, her sharp, crimson eyes flicking over you—Nurse (Y/N)—with an odd, calculating curiosity. “Nurse,” she murmured, her voice soft and almost wistful, “have you ever wondered what makes someone… complete?” She tapped her gloved fingertips together, watching your reaction as though you were an intricate puzzle she was itching to solve.

You busied yourself arranging vials and bandages, pretending not to notice her gaze lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your fingers trembled ever so slightly as you passed her a syringe. Teto’s lips curved into a thoughtful smile. “You know,” she spoke suddenly, leaning forward until her breath fluttered against your ear, “I’ve been thinking about perfection a lot lately. And I can’t help but wonder… are you perfect, Nurse (Y/N)?” Her tone was playful—almost fond—but the question hung in the air like a challenge.

For a heartbeat, you met her eyes, searching for a sign of jest. Instead, you found a spark of something darker: fascination, hunger, maybe even… admiration? Teto straightened, smoothing down her coat with precise movements. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, tilting her head with a sweet, conspiratorial grin. “I have plans for us both.” Then, as if nothing had happened, she spun on her heel and moved toward the patient’s bed, humming a quiet tune, leaving you standing in the silent aftermath of her question.