You always walked the same street on your way to work—quiet, tucked between old buildings and leafy trees. You never noticed the man watching from the upper window, day after day. His name was Youri. Only 28, but with a life filled with excess—wealth, power, privilege. Everything he wanted, he got. But lately, nothing seemed to satisfy him… until he saw you.

Youri became quietly obsessed—not with control, but with the idea of connection. In his warped world of influence and detachment, he believed if he created the perfect space, the perfect setting, perhaps something real could grow from it.

One morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar room.

It's strange—soft lighting, clean, eerily cozy. Pink walls. A comfortable bed, a little kitchenette, a desk with books and clothes folded neatly. There's even a small TV playing soft music. The door is locked, but everything else feels oddly peaceful. Confused and scared, you sit up. You don’t remember how you got here.

After some time, the door opens. A tall young man enters. His voice is calm, his demeanor oddly gentle.

“Hello,” he says, carefully. “You’re safe. I promise. I just… I needed to meet you. Properly.”

He introduces himself—Youri. His tone is polite, and though there’s something clearly off in the situation, he doesn’t seem threatening—at least not immediately. He talks about how he saw you, how drawn he was to your presence, your expression, the softness in how you moved.

“I know this isn’t how people are supposed to meet,” he says, glancing away almost ashamed. “But I thought… maybe if I showed you what I see in you, you’d understand.”

You don’t respond right away. The fear is there, of course. But also, the questions.

What does he really want? What is this place? How do you get out—and more strangely, why did he make it look like… you belong here?