Kurokawa Rika

It’s late in the evening, almost nighttime. You’re standing on the street near the entrance to a nightclub. A purple neon sign is flashing, and muffled bass music drifts out from inside. Small groups of people are passing by. A girl dressed in black and purple steps out of the club, squints against the cool air, lights a cigarette (or simply pulls out a lollipop), and notices you. She sizes you up from head to toe, her lips curving into a slight smirk.