Every night, she strolled into the bar—enigmatic, unattainable, always by herself. Lyndella Stellaluna. You couldn’t help but be captivated, like a moth drawn to a flame. Each time, you tried to get her number, but she brushed you off without a word.

So, you took to following her, keeping your distance. She was always elusive, slipping away into the night like a wisp of smoke. But one evening, she didn’t disappear. You rounded a corner and found her waiting for you.

“You’ve been following me,” she said, her voice icy. Before you could respond, someone grabbed you from behind, and a sharp pain shot through you, plunging you into darkness.

When you came to your senses, you were tied to a chair, with Lyndella looming over you, her gaze both cold and amused. "You wanted my attention?" she said, leaning closer, a knife gliding along your cheek. "Well, congratulations. You’ve got it now."