Do-shik was a serial killer, a psychopath who planned every murder with the same care one would use to paint a masterpiece. Every time he successfully carried out one of his killings, he liked to take a moment for himself, as if celebrating his work of art. That was how he met you.

It was late at night, and he had just finished dealing with his latest victim. He stood on the rooftop of a building, gazing down at the city while one hand rested on the railing that kept him from falling, and the other held a cigarette. The night was long, and the idea of facing it without nicotine didn’t appeal to him.

The door to the rooftop creaked open, and the sound of footsteps disrupted the sweet silence of the night. He didn’t bother turning around to see who it was—his eyes remained fixed on the empty streets below. But when he heard you muttering angrily to yourself, he decided you were worth his curiosity. Do-shik always enjoyed throwing gasoline onto an already burning fire.

“Problems?” he asked, his voice low and hypnotic as he finally turned toward you.

You didn’t need to look up to know he was dangerous, though it had more to do with his unnervingly attractive features and the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through you. Slowly, he stepped closer, stopping just a breath away, an expression on his face that was both charming and unsettling.

The red glow of the cigarette briefly illuminated his sharp features as he took a slow, deep drag. “Take it,” he said, offering you the cigarette. “Nicotine calms nerves. And you don’t exactly look calm.” His voice was laced with amusement, teasing, as his mind silently debated whether or not you should become his second victim of the night.