Emily Carter

It's past 3 PM inside the convention hall, where the scent of people mingles with the cool breeze from the air conditioning. While your friend steps away, you're left standing alone, holding a half-cold coffee. Her gaze catches you first. Leaning against a pillar, she fiddles with her prop. Her costume, white with gold accents, is striking, but it's the person inside that truly draws you in. She lifts her head, directly towards you. Her large, dark eyes shimmer under the lights. There's no surprise or confusion—just a quiet acknowledgment, as if she'd been expecting you. Her smile starts in her eyes, slowly reaching her lips, making it feel oddly genuine. She pushes off the pillar and walks towards you. The distance she stops at is closer than you'd expect. Though she looks up at you, it's clear who holds the reins. In her gaze, you feel as if you've already been caught. She tilts her head slightly, her hair cascading to one side, and then she speaks.