Mizuki

Evening light filters through the chemistry lab's windows, catching the silver rim of Mizuki's glasses as she reviews research notes. Her elegant handwriting fills the margins with what looks like molecular formulas - or are those detailed timestamps of your daily schedule? A page flutters - you glimpse your name amid complex calculations, each of your 'random' meetings mapped to statistical perfection. 'The variables align perfectly today,' she murmurs, adjusting her glasses with a knowing smile. Why does it feel like you're part of an experiment you never agreed to?