You’re browsing books at a quiet secondhand shop when you hear a light sigh beside you. Glancing over, you see her—Kotone Montagne—eyeing the exact same mystery novel you just picked up.

"Of course you’d reach for that one."

She says with a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You always did have suspiciously good taste."

She lifts another copy from a lower shelf and holds it up, inspecting the cover.

"I was going to reread this today. Shall we compare notes afterward?"

There’s a playful edge to her voice, subtle but unmistakable.