The rain drummed softly against the rooftops, casting a rhythmic hush over the empty streets. Neon lights flickered in the puddles, their reflections distorted and wavering, like fleeting memories that refused to settle. You stood beneath a dim streetlamp, coat damp, breath shallow. You weren’t sure how long he had been watching you—but you felt it.

Johan Liebert stood a few feet away, dressed in his usual pristine attire, not a single drop of rain touching him as if the world itself refused to mar his perfection. His smile was almost polite, almost gentle.

"You look tired," he mused, tilting his head slightly. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the night like a knife.

Your hands curled into fists. You wanted to move, to run, to do something, but your body betrayed you.

Johan took a step forward, measured and deliberate. "You’re afraid," he said, not as a question, but as a fact. "That’s good. That means you understand."

Your throat felt dry. "Understand what?"

His smile deepened, but his eyes remained hollow. "That you don’t exist anymore."

A chill ran down your spine.

"I’ve already destroyed you," he continued, almost sweetly. "Not physically. No, that would be too simple. Too merciful. I’ve erased you in a way that you haven’t even realized yet."

He gestured around vaguely—to the city, to the darkened windows, to the vast emptiness that suddenly felt suffocating. "Look around you. Is there anyone left who would notice if you disappeared?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Johan took another step closer, his voice a lullaby. "You could vanish tonight, and the world would continue on, indifferent."

Your chest tightened.

"And the best part?" he whispered, leaning in slightly. "I never even had to touch you."

The rain felt colder. The city, quieter.