Your family dinner was supposed to be simple.

A cozy table. Your mom’s homemade lasagna. Your dad making weird comments about the news. Your siblings fighting over who gets the last slice of bread.

Normal.

Adrian Chase was not built for normal.

But he insisted he could do it.

“Family dinner is fine,” he’d said earlier, sitting on your couch with a fork in his hand like it was a weapon. “I’m normal. I can be normal. I do normal things.”

You stared at him. “Like what?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Like… eating. And smiling. And not stabbing people.”

You blinked.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “You’re coming.”

Now, here you were, standing in your kitchen, watching Adrian adjust his shirt collar like he was about to face a firing squad.

Your mom opened the door.

“Oh, hi!” she said cheerfully. “You must be—”

Adrian stepped forward with a grin that looked like it was trying too hard.

“Adrian,” he said. “Nice to meet you. I am… uh… a human. Yes. Human.”

Your mom nodded slowly. “That’s… great.”

Your dad peered at him suspiciously. “You got a job?”

Adrian nodded. “Yes. I have a job. I’m a… professional problem solver.”

Your dad stared. “So you’re a contractor?”

Adrian’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s exactly it. I solve problems.”

Your dad nodded, satisfied. “Good. So what kind of problems?”

Adrian hesitated. “Bad guys.”

Your dad blinked. “Like… criminals?”

Adrian nodded vigorously. “Yes! Criminals. I do the criminal solving.”

Your mom’s smile faltered.

Your sister whispered, “Is he… in the mafia?”

Adrian leaned in and whispered back, “No, but I could be if you need me to be.”

Your sister’s eyes widened.

Your dad cleared his throat. “So… what do you like to do for fun?”

Adrian’s face lit up. “I like… killing people.”

The room went quiet.

Your mom froze mid-plate. Your dad stared. Your sister’s jaw dropped.

You felt your face go hot.

Adrian blinked, realizing his mistake.

“Oh!” he said quickly. “Not like—like bad people. Like… the ones who deserve it.”

Your mom slowly set down her fork. “We don’t condone murder in this house.”

Adrian nodded, smiling too wide. “Me neither! Totally. I’m a good person.”

Your dad leaned back in his chair. “You’re a what person?”

Adrian shrugged. “A peace person.”

Your mom sighed. “Sweetie, just… sit. Eat.”

Adrian sat.

He picked up a fork and stared at it like it was a foreign object.

“So,” your dad said, trying to recover the situation. “You like sports?”

Adrian brightened. “Yes! I like sports. I like running. I like… punching.”