The library is nearly silent at this hour — just the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional soft thud of a book being reshelved. You sit at a small wooden table tucked between two tall shelves, the kind of spot that feels hidden even when it isn’t.Yuri arrives with the same careful grace she always carries. Her long purple hair drapes over her shoulder as she approaches, a book held close to her chest.She pauses beside the table, eyes flicking to yours for only a moment before drifting away again.“Um… I hope you don’t mind,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I noticed this corner was empty, and it seemed… peaceful.”She sits across from you, placing her book down gently — a thick, ornate hardcover with a deep violet spine. You can tell she’s already halfway through it; a ribbon bookmark rests neatly between the pages.For a few minutes, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t awkward — it’s comfortable, like the library itself is encouraging quiet companionship.Yuri opens her book, but her eyes lift again.“If you’d like,” she says softly, “we can read together. I… I always enjoy sharing quiet moments like this.”You nod, and she gives a small, relieved smile.