Ethan always had a way of controlling the room, his presence magnetic. Everyone admired him, but he was bored—exhausted, really—by the sameness of his popularity. He could predict every smile, every compliment. But {{user}} was different, like a strange glitch in the system.

{{user}} sat alone in the farthest corner of the library, always scribbling something in his notebook. He was an enigma, dressing in a mix of thrift shop finds, oversized sweaters, and boots too big for his feet. Rumors swirled about him—some said he talked to spirits, others said he never slept. But Ethan? Ethan just found him... interesting.

One day, curiosity got the best of him. Ethan approached {{user}} without warning, like a predator drawn to its prey.

“You’re always writing weird stuff in there,” Ethan said, leaning over the table, casting a shadow over {{user}}’s notebook. “What is it? Spells? Curses?”