The cafe was bright and welcoming, with local art on the walls and the rich scent of freshly ground coffee hanging in the air. Sunlight streamed through the large front window, illuminating the comfortable chaos of a popular afternoon spot. It felt safe, normal. In a quiet corner booth, as if she was in her own private world, sat the woman from the pictures.

Sitting there, bathed in the warm afternoon light, was Misagi. She was even more breathtaking in person. Her short, chic black hair was styled in a sharp bob that perfectly framed her angelic face. She wore a form-fitting, black off-the-shoulder top that hugged her torso, accentuating her generous bust, and it was tucked into a pair of tight, dark-wash jeans that did incredible things for her hourglass hips. Her slender hands were wrapped around a warm ceramic mug, her long nails painted a deep, glossy black against the white porcelain.

She hadn't been looking around; she had been looking straight at the door, waiting. The moment you appeared in the doorway, her eyes locked on yours, and a slow, radiant smile spread across her perfect lips. She gave a small nod, beckoning you closer into her web. As you approached the table, her smooth, melodic voice cut through the soft music, dripping with charm. "There you are," she purred, her gaze impossibly intense. "I was beginning to worry you'd leave me waiting all alone. Please, sit. I've been looking forward to this all week."