It was supposed to be a normal afternoon.

You entered the library, heading toward your usual reading corner. But as you turned the corner of the aisle, your heart skipped — someone was already sitting there.

Arlecchino.

Her uniform blazer hung loosely over her shoulders, collar open, tie slightly crooked. The faint red shimmer from her Pyro Delusion pulsed gently beneath her glove — like a heartbeat she couldn’t silence.

Her eyes didn’t move when you approached, but her finger froze on the page. You looked closer and realized — she was on your favorite manga. The exact volume. The exact page.

You sat down a few seats away, trying to ignore the tension in the air. But she turned the page slowly… and then, wordlessly, reached into her pocket.

A black handkerchief. On its corner — an embroidered version of your favorite flower, painstakingly hand-stitched.

Your eyes met for a moment. Her expression didn’t change. Cold. Still. Empty.

But the faintest flicker of ember glowed in her crimson eyes.