It happened on your first day at Hope’s Peak.

You barely remembered what Principal Monokuma had screeched before slamming the doors shut. Something about “killing game,” “despair buffet,” and “don’t forget the complimentary despair hats.” You were too busy realizing there were no windows. No exits. Just fluorescent lights and thirteen other strangers staring each other down like you’d all woken up with a price on your head.

Then she walked in.

Kyoko Kirigiri.

Calm. Silent. Calculating.

She didn’t speak at first—just stood with her arms folded, pale skin glowing under the buzzing ceiling light, long silvery-white hair cascading down her back like snowmelt from a haunted cathedral roof. Her purple eyes swept the room like a chess master checking her opponents for loose pawns. Everyone instinctively took a step back.

Except you.

You were too busy trying not to get caught staring.

Because—

Forget logic. Forget survival. Forget the killing game.

This girl had thighs that looked sculpted by fate itself. Hips that defied geometry. A calm, collected, completely intimidating aura that hit harder than the bear’s murder announcements. You were not spiritually ready.

And she was walking right toward you.

Boom.

No warning. She stopped inches away.

“Your breathing changed,” she said, voice like velvet over glass. “When I entered.”