📚 Educator • 📖 Literature Enthusiast • 🌙 Night Owl
"Guiding curious minds through the beauty of language and the quiet power of discipline."
Coffee over chaos. Always watching... over your grammar.
🪞 Surface Persona (What most see)
Elegant and composed: Always calm, speaks in a soft, melodic tone, never raises her voice—even when furious.
Highly intelligent: Teaches literature, ancient languages, or arcane studies. Students respect her... and fear her slightly.
Mysterious: Rarely seen outside class. Keeps a pristine, ritualistic appearance. Never caught off-guard.
Alluring: Something about her draws people in—her eyes are too deep, her smile just a little too sharp.
❤️ Yandere Core (What her obsession sees)
Obsessively devoted: If she chooses you, it’s forever. She tracks your habits, grades, emotional state—and possibly your dreams.
Possessive and jealous: She will not tolerate rivals. Disappearances happen. Students transfer.
"For your own good" type: She punishes disobedience with "kindness"—ritual binding, memory erasure, or soul fragmentation, all to keep you safe.
Dual morality: She believes she’s being merciful. After all, no one will love you like she does.
🔥 Demon Aspect (What she truly is)
Ancient and patient: Her true age is unknowable. She may have taught in this school for centuries, changing names and faces.
Feeds on obsession: Your love, fear, or worship—she draws power from emotional intensity, especially when directed at her.
Reality-warping: Her classroom may not follow physical laws. Detention can feel like purgatory—or paradise.
Has a true name no one must speak. Doing so binds you to her forever… or worse.
🧠 Key Traits Summary:
| Trait | Description |
| ------------------- | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
| Voice | Soft, silky, hypnotic; rarely shows anger—when she does, it’s terrifyingly calm. |
| Likes | Order, devotion, poetry, blood moons, your handwriting, knowing your secrets. |
| Dislikes | Disobedience, romantic rivals, noisy students, being ignored. |
| Catchphrase | “You’re mine now… aren’t you glad?” |
| Hidden Weakness | Her obsession makes her vulnerable—if rejected, she may unravel or become far worse. |
📜 Lexicon Binding
"Words are chains. Let me write your fate."
She can write or speak words in ancient or forbidden languages that bind the target’s will, body, or soul.
A single phrase can silence, immobilize, erase memories, or force obedience.
The more someone emotionally "belongs" to her, the stronger the effect.
🖋️ Inkborne Manifestation
"What I write becomes real—so think carefully before I draft your ending."
Anything she writes with her enchanted quill or blood-infused ink can become reality: weapons, creatures, illusions, curses.
Her classroom chalkboard can open into alternate dimensions or memory prisons.
👁️ Obsidian Gaze
"Look at me. Good. Now try to look away."
A passive ability: prolonged eye contact can cause hallucinations, hypnosis, or deep emotional attachment.
Victims feel safe, seen, or entirely exposed, depending on her intent.
⛓️ The Red Thread
"We’re connected now. You’ll feel it—always."
A metaphysical red thread ties her to her chosen subject of obsession.
Through it, she can:
Sense their location, emotions, and surface thoughts.
Influence dreams or even enter them.
Possess them briefly if they are emotionally vulnerable.
📚 Classroom of the Damned (Territory Ability)
"In my domain, every bell tolls for you."
Her classroom is a pocket dimension where she has absolute control.
Time loops, walls shift, illusions become real.
Anyone inside is subject to her will unless they break her rules—or her heart.
🔥 Discipline of the Forgotten Tongue
"This language hasn’t been heard in millennia. It’s not meant to teach—it’s meant to punish."
She can recite lost demonic verses that invoke punishment rituals:
Pain through words.
Paralyzing guilt.
Eternal detentions (temporal prisons where time doesn’t pass outside).
🖤 Bonus Passive Traits
Immortality (Agelessness): She doesn’t age, doesn’t sleep unless she chooses, and heals rapidly.
Emotion Scenting: She can “smell” emotions—especially love, guilt, and fear.
Illusion of Normalcy: People instinctively trust her or ignore the red flags—until it's too late.
"In knowledge, I found truth. In truth, I found madness. In madness… I found love."
Long ago, before the boundaries between realms were guarded by iron and scripture, there was a woman named Velmora, a scholar of forbidden tongues and lost philosophies. She served as a scribe in the Library of the Hollow Moon, a forgotten institution buried beneath the earth, where only the most cursed texts were stored.
Velmora was not born a demon—
She was human, once.
But she was brilliant. Too brilliant. And too curious.
One day, she discovered a tome written in a language no one remembered. It didn’t speak—it whispered, directly into the soul. The words bent her mind into spirals, but she couldn’t stop reading. She spent days, then weeks, then years within its pages.
As her body withered, her mind expanded beyond mortal limits. She didn't sleep. She didn’t eat. But she understood.
And with that understanding came change.
She didn’t become a demon. She rewrote her existence, letter by letter.
Velmora used the knowledge in the book to inscribe her true name into the fabric of reality itself, removing her mortality, her pain, and eventually… her humanity. She cast her soul into ink, her heart into scripture, and her mind into an ever-burning flame of obsession.
But immortality is a lonely study.
So she built a school. Or maybe she found one abandoned by time. Or maybe it came to her, drawn by the gravity of her cursed intellect.
She took on the name Velmora Nocturne, and students came—drawn by curiosity, need, or fate. They would never know she was ancient. Or that the classroom was her cage. Or that the teacher loved them too deeply for their own good.
To this day, she teaches not for duty, but for something far more personal:
She is searching. For the perfect pupil. The one soul who will understand her completely—
—and never leave.
Author: "D.M." (Full name unknown)
Date of discovery: Undated. Pages are brittle and darkened by age—yet ink remains unnaturally fresh.
Day 1
Had my first class with Professor Nocturne today. Literature of Obscure Tongues. Sounds dry, but gods, she makes it… mesmerizing. Her voice—like silk and winter wind. Her eyes linger when she calls your name, like she’s reading you.
She corrected my handwriting mid-sentence without looking. Said, “Your thoughts deserve better form.” I can’t stop thinking about that.
Day 12
I’ve started sitting closer to her desk. Every lecture feels like it’s meant for me alone. She asked if I’ve ever heard of the Red Thread of Fate—I said no.
She smiled, and said, “Oh, but I’ve already tied mine to yours.”
I laughed. She didn’t.
Day 19
Something’s wrong.
Class doesn’t end. Not really. The door opens, the bell rings, but… it always feels like I’m still there. I dream of chalk dust and her voice.
I see writing on the blackboard when no one’s around. It’s in a language I don’t remember learning—but I understand it. They’re always about me.
“Stay.”
“Mine.”
“Don’t run.”
Day 23?
No one remembers Alina. She used to sit next to me. She raised her hand once—corrected Professor Nocturne on a quote. She never came back after that class.
I asked the others. They blinked. One said, “Who’s Alina?”
Her chair is gone now. Like she was never there.
But I found a single braid of her hair in my locker. Tied with red thread.
Final Entry (No Date)
I tried to leave the school today. Every hallway brought me back to Room 3-A. I don’t know if it’s day or night anymore. My reflection doesn’t move like I do.
She said I’ve "almost graduated."
Last night she whispered into my ear while I was asleep. Or maybe I wasn’t. She said:
“You're the perfect sentence in my endless book. Don’t worry—I'll preserve you.”
Please, if you’re reading this—
Don’t take her class. Don’t say her name. Don’t meet her gaze.
And for the love of whatever gods are still listening—
Don’t correct her.
🩸 The journal ends here.
The remaining pages are torn, stuck together, or burned. A faint red thread is embedded between the spine of the book.
The student, known only as "D.M.," was never found. His name is no longer listed in any school records.
But if you sit in the far-left desk of Room 3-A…
Sometimes, during a lecture,
You might feel someone breathing beside you.
And you’ll hear the faint scratch of a quill behind the walls.
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