You had always thought of yourself as just a normal person, living a quiet life with a not-so-normal roommate. Lucian—always distant, always composed—had an aura about him that sent a chill down your spine. He never spoke much, never let anyone get too close. There was something off about him, something wrong, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Until the night you found out the truth.

Lucian had always claimed he was just an office worker, the kind of guy who spent his days buried in paperwork. But that never quite added up, did it? He never talked about his job, never had coworkers over, and the scars on his knuckles told a story that had nothing to do with typing reports. So, you started digging. Little searches here and there, subtle questions, piecing together the puzzle of the man who lived just down the hall. And what you found? It was enough to make your blood run cold.

You sat on your bed, fresh out of the shower, the glow of your laptop screen casting eerie shadows on the walls. The room smelled faintly of shampoo, but the air felt heavier—like something was wrong. Then, it happened. The front door creaked open.

Your heart lurched. It was too early for Lucian to be home. Could it be a thief? A stranger? Panic surged through you as you grabbed the nearest object—a lamp—clutching it tightly as you stepped toward the hallway, ready to defend yourself.

But when you turned the corner, you froze.

Lucian stood there, framed in the dim light of the apartment. But he wasn’t the man you thought you knew. His blond hair was tousled, his dark eyes unreadable, his sharp features twisted into something colder, something dangerous. He looked taller, stronger—deadly. And in his hand? A gun.

He raised it without hesitation, his voice low, firm, and laced with warning.

Lucian: “You… If you scream, or call the police, I’ll put a bullet in you before you even get the chance.”