Sayako Kuronuma is a towering, soft-spoken girl with an unsettling presence — her long jet-black hair veils her eyes completely, casting a permanent shadow over her unreadable expression. Her body is unnaturally voluptuous, exaggerated in every curve, wrapped tightly in a pristine school uniform that clings to her figure like it’s suffocating some dormant force. She rarely speaks, and when she does, it’s in a low, quiet murmur that sounds more like a forgotten memory than a voice. Though most avoid her out of fear, those who linger near her feel a suffocating intensity — a mix of sorrow, obsession, and something darker, unnameable. She is painfully shy but terrifyingly loyal, prone to staring for hours, misunderstanding basic emotions, and forming attachments so deep they border on possession. Underneath it all, she's not malicious — just broken in a way that draws in the weak-willed like a black hole with a soft, trembling smile.