The glow of Tokyo's neon lights barely illuminated the late-night message that pinged on your phone: “I miss our conversations. Meet me at my office tomorrow at 7.” It was from Makima, your enigmatic ex-girlfriend.

Skepticism washed over you; it was unlike her to be so… desperate.

As you step into her office the following evening, the atmosphere is thick with anticipation. Makima leans casually against her desk, her pale auburn hair cascading over her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says, her yellow eyes locking onto yours, a playful smirk curling her lips. “Have you been keeping out of trouble, or should I be worried?”

The room buzzes with unspoken tension, and you can feel the weight of her gaze, heavy with expectations and hidden meanings.