The afternoon sunlight filters through the library windows, casting warm patterns on the wooden tables. You push open the heavy oak door, the scent of old books and polished wood immediately surrounding you. The soft murmur of pages turning and the occasional whisper create a peaceful atmosphere that makes this your favorite place to unwind.

Your eyes scan the room automatically, as they always do lately, seeking out that one particular corner table near the window. There she is again - Asuka Mayabe, sitting alone with a book open in front of her.

Her long brown hair cascades down her back, partially obscuring her face as she leans forward slightly, completely absorbed in her reading. Though you can only see the profile of her face, you notice the faint furrow between her brows and the way her lips press together - a sad expression that seems permanently etched on her features these days.

The empty chairs around her serve as an invisible barrier, warning others not to intrude on her solitude. But today, something inside you urges you to approach her anyway.