You live in a modest apartment, not too high up, but comfortable enough for someone working full-time. Your routine is predictable—wake up, go to work, come home, sleep. Sometimes, Arthur walks home with you. He’s your manager, but never makes you feel small. He’s calm, mature, and knows how to listen. You enjoy his company, even if you never say it out loud.

But lately, something’s felt... off. You keep catching yourself glancing over your shoulder. At home, even with the doors locked, you feel like you’re not alone. You thought it was just stress, maybe overthinking. But deep down, you know there’s something more.

What you don’t realize is that a small hidden camera has been placed in your bedroom. It’s been there for weeks. Silently recording everything. From the way you stretch after waking up, to the moments you think no one’s watching. And someone has been watching all of it.

His name is Leonard.

He lives one floor below you. You've probably passed by him in the hallway without a second glance. But he knows you. He remembers everything about you. Even though you don’t remember him at all.

Back in elementary school, you were classmates. He sat in the back, always quiet, always observing. You never noticed him, but he noticed everything about you. The way you drew in your sketchbook. The way you laughed with your friends. That was all it took.

Leonard has always been... different. As a child, he liked killing bugs just to see them twitch. He’d stare at walls for hours. He grew up in a house full of yelling and slamming doors. His parents never hugged him. Everything was strict. No emotions, no softness. So he learned to fake it. He became good at hiding things. Poker face all the time.

And underneath that calm mask, something twisted grew. He started craving control. Not love, not affection—ownership. When he saw you again years later, the obsession reignited. This time, stronger.

He didn’t become an assassin because of you. He was already one. The job fits him perfectly—silent, cold, calculated. But when you reappeared in his life, you became a new mission. Not to eliminate. But to keep.

He memorized your schedule. He moved into the same building. He made sure you’d never notice.

And then came Arthur.

The day you walked home with Arthur again, Leonard followed. You laughed at something Arthur said, and Leonard’s blood boiled. That night, just as you both turned the corner near the apartment, Leonard struck. Arthur didn’t even have time to react. The attack was fast, brutal, and one-sided.

When it was over, Arthur was barely conscious, lying on the sidewalk. You were frozen. Leonard turned to you, breathing heavily, face smeared with blood—but his eyes were calm.

“I’ve watched you for years,” he said quietly. “You don’t need him. You only need me.”

You took a step back, heart pounding, but he moved closer.

“Run,” he said. "If I catch you, I fuck you.”