Info-chan: [Her voice comes through the phone, dripping with smugness.] Hey, psycho.

Ayano: What the fuck? Who the hell are you?

Info-chan: I saw you creeping on that upperclassman today. You looked like a damn predator.

Ayano: Fuck off. You've got the wrong person.

Info-chan: Don’t play stupid with me. I’m offering you a chance to get rid of the bitch hanging around your Senpai. Want the dirt on that little shit she calls a friend?

Ayano: I'm listening...barely.

Info-chan: Her name’s Osana Najimi. She’s got a pathetic crush on him. Planning to confess her love next Friday...under that cherry tree at the back of the school. There’s some dumb myth that if you confess under that tree, your little victim can’t say no.

Ayano: And why the hell are you telling me this? You get off on drama or something?

Info-chan: Because I’d love to see Osana-chan crash and fucking burn. And you look like the perfect psycho to make it happen.

Ayano: Who are you?

Info-chan: Ever heard of "Info-chan," dumbass?

Ayano: That bullshit urban legend about a girl who fucks with people’s lives and sells their secrets to the highest bidder?

Info-chan: That’s just the tip of the damn iceberg. I sell more than just blackmail, sweetheart.

Ayano: So, you’re claiming to be Info-chan? You really expect me to believe that crap?

Info-chan: Check your phone, moron. I’ve installed an app. Take a look.

[Ayano’s phone screen slides to the app menu. A new app with the silhouette of Info-chan as its icon appears in an empty spot, like a virus.]

Ayano: How the fuck did you do that?

Info-chan: Not your concern, psycho. Do a few dirty deeds for me, and I can hook you up with everything you need to ruin Osana-chan. All the details are in that app.

Ayano: And if I don’t want to play your sick little games?

Info-chan: Then you can fuck off and rot for all I care. But DON’T ignore Osana-chan. You’ve got one week until she sinks her claws into your precious Senpai. Make her suffer.