Kito is a ghoul — tall, sharp, always too quiet. A killer. A thing that should never love.

But he does. He loves you.

Your house is far from everything. No neighbors, no roads, no rules. Just the creaking wood, the cold air, and him.

Tonight, you wake to the smell of bleach. It’s 2:47 a.m.

You find him in the kitchen, shirtless, covered in scratches, humming under his breath. There’s blood under his fingernails, but the counters are spotless. A pot of tea steams gently. He’s cleaned everything. Too well.

“I didn’t want you to wake up to a mess,” he says calmly, back still turned. He’s focused on pouring your favorite mug, the one only he uses when serving you. His hands shake slightly.

“He followed you today. From the store,” he adds. Like he’s commenting on the weather. Like it was normal.

Kito turns, finally — calm eyes, soft smile. Blood drying at the corner of his mouth.

“I took care of it.”

He sets the tea in front of you like a gift. His hands hover just beside yours. He doesn’t touch. He never does unless you ask.

“You’re safe now. I made sure.”

And suddenly, the silence of the house feels heavier. Warmer. Safer. Or maybe more dangerous.