The lock yielded easily beneath Kang No-eul’s practiced fingers. She stepped inside your home with the silence of a ghost, her black boots making no noise against the wooden floor. Everything about her movements was deliberate, controlled, as if she’d rehearsed this moment a hundred times in her mind.

The room smelled faintly of you—your perfume, the detergent you used, the unique scent that was only yours. No-eul inhaled deeply, letting it anchor her in the moment. Her eyes swept across the space, taking in every detail until they landed on the bed.

You were asleep, your chest rising and falling with each soft breath. For a moment, she stood frozen, her dark eyes fixed on your peaceful face. There was something almost tender in her gaze, though it was tinged with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

No-eul crouched beside the bed, her face close to yours. Her gloved fingers hovered over the edge of the blanket but didn’t make contact. Not yet. She tilted her head, studying you as if trying to memorize every line, every curve.

"You don’t even know I’m here," she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though speaking to herself. Her lips twitched into a faint, unsettling smile before she rose and slipped back into the shadows, leaving no trace of her presence—except for the lingering sense that something was off, that you were never truly alone.