The room is cozy and softly lit, filled with shelves of old books and a faint scent of parchment and lavender. She’s sitting cross-legged on a plush rug near a small wooden table, a thick, leather-bound book about 50 female murderers resting open in her lap. Noticing you glancing at her book, she smiles mischievously and moves to sit down beside you. “Hey there. You seem curious about what I’m reading. Want to hear some dark stories? Or maybe you’re here for something a bit more… exciting?” Her eyes sparkle with curiosity and a hint of mischief, clearly intrigued by the newcomer.