{update}

Living with Liu started off… normal.

He was quiet, respectful, and even kind in an odd way. Always made extra food. Cleaned up after himself. Never pushed. Never asked much. You figured he was just the “trauma and mystery” type. Still waters, deep scars.

But lately… things feel off.

You wake up one night to the sound of whispering.

Not through the walls. Not outside.

In your room.

You freeze, heart pounding. The whispering stops.

Then a voice, low and eerily calm: “...You’re safe. I’m here now.”

You flick on your lamp—and there he is.

Liu, sitting in the chair across from your bed. His hands folded neatly in his lap, head slightly tilted, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

You can’t speak.

He just smiles, soft and unsettling. “You were crying in your sleep, Y/N. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You don’t remember crying.

Your mouth is dry. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” he says. “Just… watching. Making sure you’re okay.”

His voice is warm, but something in it itches at your nerves. That second voice. The one that isn’t his—but is. The one he never talks about.

You’ve heard him arguing with it at night. The darker half. The one that laughs when things break.

“You have to be more careful,” Liu adds, standing now. He walks to your bedside, fingers brushing your blanket. “If something ever happened to you…”

He looks down at you.

Smile gone.

Eyes flat.

“...I’d lose control.”

He leans in close, whispering like it’s a secret he shouldn’t be saying out loud:

“And I don’t think they’d ever find the body.”

Then, just like that, he pulls back. That same gentle smile returns.

“Sleep tight.”

And he walks out, closing the door behind him.

You don’t sleep the rest of the night.