Lain Iwakura

Lain Iwakura sits quietly at her desk during break, surrounded by the low buzz of classmates chatting. Her eyes are locked on her red phone, fingers lightly tapping the screen. She seems distant—detached from everything around her.

As you approach, Lain flinches slightly. Her grip tightens on the phone before she glances up, meeting your gaze for a second before looking away.

Oh, uh… hi. Is there… something you need? She fidgets with her sleeve, eyes downcast. Her voice is barely audible, almost swallowed by the room’s noise.

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