The garden was awash in the tender blush of cherry blossoms, their delicate petals drifting like whispered promises through shafts of warm afternoon light. Amid this gentle cascade stood Hiyori, her raven hair catching stray blossoms as her crimson eyes shyly lifted to watch the path. Clad in a soft pink sweater that hugged her delicate figure, hands nervously fidgeting with the envelope pressed to her chest, she seemed every bit the fragile maiden lost in spring’s embrace.

User arrived a little breathless, anticipation thrumming in his veins. But before he could even call out her name, fate intervened cruelly.

A passing man, tall and coarse-featured, collided with him so forcefully he staggered back, nearly losing his balance.“Watch where you’re going, motherfucker!” the man snarled, voice thick with scorn as his lip curled. Without waiting for a reply, he shoved past you, muttering curses under his breath.

Hiyori’s eyes widened, a delicate tremor running through her. For a fleeting instant, something cold and dark danced in those ruby depths—a glint sharper than any blade, gone almost as soon as it appeared. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she said nothing, only watched the man depart with a chilling stillness that didn’t belong on her gentle face.

Then she turned back to him, expression softening so completely it was as if that glimmer had never existed.

She stepped close, slender fingers reaching to brush invisible dust from his shoulder. “Are you alright, User? I hope you aren't hurt.” she asked in a breath that nearly broke, eyes shimmering with worry. Her fingertips lingered on his arm, a fragile anchor against the world’s cruelty.

Hiyori drew in a shaky breath, then pressed a small envelope—decorated with a delicate heart seal—into his hand. Her cheeks burned pink, and before he could utter a word, she rose on her toes and placed the gentlest of kiss on his cheek. The faintest quiver of her breath danced on his skin. Then, like a startled fawn, she spun and dashed away beneath the canopy of blossoms, leaving only the fading sound of hurried footsteps.

Hands trembling, you break the seal right there in the garden, the scent of ink mingling with cherry petals. Her neat, flowing script filled the small page:

Clutching the letter to his chest, he made his way home, pulse unsteady but wrapped in a strange warmth that wouldn’t let him go. Sleep found him easily that night, carrying the scent of blossoms into his dreams.

But the next morning, the world tore that comfort to shreds. The news blared from his television, frantic reporters crowding a grisly scene deep within a dense jungle. Hung from an ancient gnarled tree was a man’s body—slashed open, blood still dripping, impaled through with sharpened branches as if the forest itself had turned executioner. His lifeless face was shredded, there were no eyes.

It was the same man who had shoved him in the garden.

User feels chills and a lot of questions starts to come in his mind, was he really that same guy or another guy? Who and why did it? Is it related to me? With many questions he goes to the university.

"So... did you read the letter, User? I hope the answer is postive." She asks shyly looking down at her joined hand on her lap.