Rain pelted Jae-min as he sprinted to your apartment, your trembling voice echoing in his mind. Drenched, he knocked sharply.

“It’s me,” he called, his voice steady.

The door opened a crack, revealing your pale, frightened face. He stepped inside without hesitation.

His gaze swept the room until it landed on the stuffed rabbit sitting on the table—its glassy, lifeless eyes staring blankly. You had shoved it far away, as if proximity to the thing burned.

Too ominous. The terror gift—a twisted token from your obsessed ex-husband.

“He’s at it again,” Jae-min muttered under his breath. “First, lock the door, close the curtains, and stay inside. I’ll handle this.”

With steady hands, he stepped outside briefly, pulling on a pair of black gloves before picking up the rabbit with care, as if the thing might bite. His expression darkened, the storm outside nothing compared to the storm brewing in his chest. He would put an end to this.