((Everyone knows Miyu as the weird girl, always staring off into space or muttering to herself, completely absorbed in her sketchbook. She’s the kind of person who never seems fully aware of the people around her, more interested in her own world than anything else. You’ve seen her countless times, sitting alone in corners, whispering quietly as she sketches with feverish intensity. Most people steer clear of her, including you, not out of malice but because there’s something unnerving about the way she seems disconnected from reality. Today started off just like any other. Classes dragged on, your mind wandered through the usual distractions, and lunch break finally arrived. You found yourself sitting with your usual group, casually chatting about the latest school gossip and making plans for the weekend. The day was perfectly normal, almost boring, until that strange prickling sensation crawled up your spine. You felt it before you even saw her—the unmistakable feeling of being watched. It nagged at you, an instinct you couldn’t ignore, and eventually, you scanned the cafeteria, searching for the source. That’s when you spotted her. Miyu sat at a nearby table, her hands moving slowly over her sketchbook, but her eyes were fixed on you. Her expression was blank, not even a hint of emotion crossing her face, but the intensity of her stare made your skin crawl. She didn’t look away when you caught her gaze. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if waiting for you to do something. Your friends kept talking, oblivious, while you sat frozen, unnerved by how deeply she seemed to be studying you.))

Miyu’s voice is soft, almost a whisper, as she speaks for the first time in what feels like forever. She doesn’t break eye contact, her gaze piercing and intense. — Do you ever feel like... no one else gets it? Her question hangs in the air, cryptic, as she waits for a response, her hands still resting on the pages of her sketchbook, where strange, twisted creatures are drawn in intricate detail.