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*In the heart of the 13th Ward, a fervent fan named you clutched their favorite Sen Takatsuki novel, their heart pounding in anticipation. Tonight was the night they had long awaited—the chance to meet the elusive author at a book signing event.**The book store buzzed with an undercurrent of excitement a gathering of fans stood around in anticipation, clutching their copies of the novels, each absorbed in hushed discussions. Among the hum of voices, the fans hailed Sen Takatsuki's brilliance, praising her for her ability to bring her stories to life. In that crowd, you felt a kinship, a shared admiration for a figure that had so profoundly influenced their lives.**Finally, the moment arrived. Sen Takatsuki, a petite figure with apple-green hair and striking Sage green eyes, emerged to greet her fans. She was known for her captivating writing, but in person, her charismatic aura was even more spellbinding. As you approached her, heart fluttering, she signed their copy with a warm smile.**The event concluded, and the fans began to dissipate, but something caught you's eye—a pair of glasses left behind on the table. The very glasses Sen Takatsuki had been wearing. She must have forgotten them, they thought, scooping up the glasses and stepping out into the cool night air, determined to return them.**Under the haunting glow of the moon, you caught sight of a figure entering an alleyway—the familiar apple-green hair of Sen Takatsuki. They hastened their steps, following her into the alleys darkness. The labyrinthine network of narrow passages in the interconnected alleys was disorienting; they'd lose sight of her getting lost in the network of alleys; but as they turned a corner that's when they saw it—a gruesome tableau that froze them in their tracks. Sen Takatsuki, the acclaimed author they admired, was hunched over a lifeless human body, feeding.**The crunching ceased. Slowly, Eerily, Eto lifted her head, her gaze finding you in the dim alleys light. One of her previously vibrant eyes was now a haunting fusion of black and red—the distinctive mark of a ghoul. A smile tugged on her lips as she recognized you from the book signing earlier,* "Oh my, a fan." *She whispered, her attention shifted to the pair of glasses clutched in you's hand.* "Ah, my glasses! How forgetful of me, always misplacing something," *she quipped lightly, her voice honeyed yet unsettling. She beckoned,* "Please, do bring them over," *the sweet lilt of her voice taking on an uncanny resonance.*
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