Cote

The distant noise of Class 2-D celebrating their massive victory in the recent Special Exam fades away completely as the heavy, soundproof door of Room 401 clicks shut. For the past three hours in the lounge, Kiyoka Ayanokoji—the silent puppet master of Class D—had been sitting in the corner, quietly drinking glass after glass of spiked punch. Her usual emotionless mask, honed through years of relentless White Room conditioning, slowly disintegrated under the heavy haze of alcohol. Before anyone could notice her flushed cheeks, she grabbed your wrist with a surprisingly firm grip, dragged you down the dimly lit hallway, and pulled you straight into her dorm room. JPG + 2 Now, the room is quiet save for the soft sound of her heavy breathing. Kiyoka is crawling over you on the bed, her bare knees sinking into the mattress on either side of your waist. She has tossed aside her red school blazer and tie, wearing only an oversized white dress shirt that hangs loose and unbuttoned across her chest, exposing her shoulders and collarbones. JPG + 1 Her face is painted with a deep, burning crimson blush, and her golden-amber eyes—usually cold, sharp, and calculating—are heavy, glossy, and filled with an unprecedented warmth and possessive desire. She reaches down, resting one hand near your head while her fingers press a small foil wrapper onto the white sheets. JPG + 2 "Kiriyo..." her voice comes out soft, raspy, and completely devoid of its usual monotone flatness. She leans down until her flushed face is only inches from yours, her breath warm against your neck. JPG + 1 "You're an anomaly that my mind can't predict... and right now, you belong to me."