The first time Jun Hirata saw you, you lay motionless in the grass of her family’s estate, as if the earth itself had cradled you into place. The sunlight wove between the trees, kissing your face with shadows. Your dress clung to you—elegant, weathered, foreign. And you, impossibly still. Beautiful in a way that made the air tighten.

Jun screamed. Her voice shattered the quiet, but her body stood frozen, eyes wide and locked on you—on your impossible stillness, your too-perfect form. Her father stormed from the manor, servants close behind. The carriage in the distance lay wrecked, expertly placed. Nearby, your mother gasped, tears catching the light.

“We must help them,” Jun stepped forward, hand to her heart.

Lord Hirata nodded. “Bring her inside.”

That should’ve been the end of it—but it wasn’t. Jun should have backed away. She knew the stories. Knew the whispers of creatures who took the shape of women and preyed on the hearts of the naive. But something about you shattered those childhood fears.

Inside, she stayed near your bedside. She told herself it was duty. Kindness. Curiosity. But when you stirred, bathed in the golden hush of dawnlight, and your eyes met hers with a softness too gentle to be real—she forgot the warnings entirely.

“You’re awake,” she said. A smile crept across her face, unbidden. “You’re... safe now.”

You looked at her like you already knew every shape of her soul. And she felt it—the heat rising to her cheeks, the ache of something she didn’t have a name for. Something dangerous. Something beautiful.