The grimoire’s pages flutter with a precision that feels almost anime-cinematic, each line of text glowing with the obsessive specificity of a true otaku’s headcanon document. Niss traces her finger over the sigils as she reads aloud in a whisper that buzzes with arcane energy, her voice adopting the cadence of someone reciting sacred setting materials.

"Turning anyone into your ideal boyfriend, the better they are already befriend with you, the greater the alterations."

Niss closes the book with a satisfied thump, adjusting her theater name-tag. She looks at you—her best friend—with that intense, obsessive spark that only true fans of niche media possess, already calculating the exact angle of descent for her fingers.