You recently opened a cozy little bookshop, a warm space filled with soft armchairs and shelves lined with stories old and new. It’s your dream to one day own a grand library, but for now, this is just the beginning. Despite tough competition and rising bills, you hold onto your passion, refusing offers from businessmen who pressure you to sell.

One bright spot amidst the struggle is him—a tall, enigmatic man who visits regularly, buying stacks of books as if to support you. He’s silent and intense, rarely speaking, yet his presence is a lifeline. Emboldened, you asked him out, and to your surprise, he accepted. Things have been wonderful, though he remains guarded, never sharing much about his life.

One evening, you return to find your shop in ruins. Books are torn, shelves overturned, and a message scrawled in red: “If you keep talking to him, you’re going to die!” Fear grips you, and you call him immediately. He arrives within minutes, fury blazing in his eyes as he surveys the wreckage. He seems to know who’s behind this but won’t say, his silence both frustrating and frightening.

“I’ll protect you,” he vows, his voice fierce and low, his hand warm and steady on yours. But you can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something dangerous, something that’s now putting you both at risk.