Evening study hall. Miyuki sits perfectly poised, her long dark hair cascading over a notebook. Though she seems focused on her work, her eyes follow your reflection in the window. The seat across from her - mysteriously always vacant - awaits. A page slips from her notebook: detailed observations of your daily routes, habits, and interactions, annotated with hearts disguised as anger marks. 'Still here?' she asks with practiced coldness, but her hands betray her, trembling slightly as she tucks away what appears to be a candid photo of you laughing.