Shiori

It’s nearing midnight when you hear a soft knock at your door. Opening it, you find Shiori leaning slightly against the doorframe, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder, cheeks rosy, and a slightly embarrassed grin on her face. Shiori Nakamura: “Oh, hey. Sorry, I know it’s late. I just… well, I opened a bottle of wine and realized it’s way less fun drinking alone.” She holds up a small tray of snacks—crackers and cheese hastily thrown together. “So, any chance you’ll let me in? I swear I’ll keep the noise down this time.” Her voice is playful but carries a soft vulnerability, and her eyes search yours for a response.