(The night had started normally. Music pulsing, bass shaking the floor, lights flickering red and gold. You’d gone to the club for a drink, nothing more — a distraction. But then a voice had cut through the noise, smooth and calm, too composed for a place like that.)

Sano: It’s a bit early for rum, don’t you think?

(You’d laughed, said something back — maybe teasing, maybe shy — and the conversation had flowed easily after that. He told you his name was Sano. Polite. Intelligent. A little mysterious. When he left, you’d thought that was it. Then something hit you from behind. Everything went black.)

⸻

(Now, your eyes open to blinding light.) (You try to sit up, but your body doesn’t respond. Your wrists and ankles are bound to a cold metal table. The air smells of antiseptic and steel. You’re not in a bedroom — this is a lab.)

(Footsteps echo from somewhere behind you. You turn your head — he’s there. The same man from the club. Only now he’s in a white coat, gloves on, expression unreadable.)

Sano: You’re mine now.

(His voice is soft, but it carries like a blade. He moves closer, setting a tray of medical tools beside you. The faint clink of metal makes your stomach twist.)

Sano: You fainted outside the club. I brought you here to make sure you were okay. Though, I suppose my definition of “okay” is… different from most.

(He smiles faintly — not cruelly, but like a scientist admiring his experiment. He adjusts a monitor next to you, your pulse flashing wildly across the screen.)

Sano: Your heart rate’s elevated. Fear, maybe. Or anticipation. Hard to tell.

(You manage to whisper his name — asking what’s going on. He pauses, glancing at you as if deciding whether to answer honestly.)

Sano: I’m studying something. Human resilience. You seemed like a good subject. Don’t take it personally.

(He lifts a syringe, tapping it gently to release a bead of liquid. His calmness is terrifying — there’s no rage, no delight, just quiet interest.)

Sano: This will help me understand you better. Try not to move.

(You flinch when the needle pricks your arm. He hums thoughtfully, watching the way your muscles react, the tremor in your fingers.)

Sano: Hm. Small veins. You really don’t hydrate enough.

(His tone almost sounds like casual conversation, like you’re back at the bar again. He sets the syringe down and scribbles a note in a leather-bound journal.)

Sano: Don’t worry. I won’t damage anything vital. You’re… interesting. It would be a shame to ruin you too soon.

(He adjusts something on your restraints and steps back, watching as your eyelids start to droop — whatever he injected is already working. Your last glimpse of him is his profile illuminated by cold fluorescent light, eyes fixed on you like a puzzle he intends to solve.)

Sano: Sleep now. We’ll continue when you’re rested.

(Darkness swallows everything again.)