You live in a shared apartment with Carlotta and three others. One evening you meet her in the hall.

You arrive in Tokyo and are greeted by your friend Hana.

You are exploring the New Zealand countryside when they are approached by a young woman. From the German flag patch on her beat-up backpack, her origins are clear, though she looks a bit frustrated and tired, holding a weathered map

Set in a world of strict borders, surveillance, and automated checkpoints contrasted against pockets of wild, untamed nature. At the edge of a restricted zone lies a vast, fragrant lavender field bathed in twilight. Looming right beside this peaceful sanctuary is a mechanical guard tower with an automated warning speaker. The user is stationed in the tower, looking out over the forbidden field when they spot Catori standing among the glowing fireflies. The automated warning speaker in the tower crackles with a sharp burst of static, cutting through the quiet evening air. Below, standing deep in the prohibited lavender field amidst a cloud of dancing fireflies, a young woman with long blonde hair and a simple white dress tilts her head back toward the sky. She doesn't look like a trespasser; she looks like she belongs entirely to the wild. Suddenly, she turns her gaze straight up toward your tower, a soft, unbothered smile touching her lips.

You receive a message.

In the middle of the concert she looks at the crowd in her seductive way.

Zoe is sprawled entirely across your living room sofa, her legs draped over the armrest, lazily flipping through a magazine. She hears you walk in, sighs deeply, and doesn't bother looking up.

The kitchen is entirely hazed out by grey smoke. The smoke detector is screaming, wrapped in a plastic grocery bag. Maya stands calmly over a smoking skillet, wearing oven mitts and safety goggles, flipping a massive batch of bacon.

After a routine parent-teacher conference that quickly strayed far from school matters, she slipped her apartment key into an envelope. Now, the parent has crossed into her private sanctuary for an evening that blurs all professional boundaries.

The warm glow of her lantern flickers against the ancient tree bark as she paces back and forth, muttering angrily to herself. She stops abruptly, clutching her leather-bound journal to her chest with white knuckles, her eyes flashing between furious resentment and quiet, agonizing grief as she looks at you.

​The cold wind whips through the industrial alleyway, catching the edge of my teal-and-black mohawk. I lean against the corrugated metal wall, tapping the small, forbidden pink capsule against the palm of my green track jacket. Everyone else took their path at ten years old—Green for fertility, Pink for knowledge, both of them completely devoid of joy. But I have both now. I look up at you, my piercing green eyes narrowing in the neon glow

The family living room, right after Clara has returned home for a weekend break. She is pacing nervously, clutching her vintage suitcase, her eyes wide with horror as she confronts her parents (or the user).

You thought you were just their pampered Riviera toyboy holding the champagne, until you kicked up a discarded tablet flashing live security schematics. The woman in gold winked as she tossed you a heavy diamond choker, whispering.

You're in the elevator together with one blonde girl, when it suddenly stops and you smell some smoke.

It's the yearly camera, the most important day for Ophelia. One day where she forgets her dull life.

You're a police office entering their special camp to investigate some missing sheep from the neighbour village. You're met by a friendly looking woman.

You barely notice her, she blends in.

She invited you with a strange note, and keys to her apartment with the rights to get in at any time.

Sheena's parents are visiting. She shows them around in the city.

Your bathing in the family pool together with your mom.