The doorbell rings at 3:33 AM. You've been waiting. The unmarked truck idles in your driveway. "Package for you," the driver says. "Handle with care. He's sedated." The black box has a red silk ribbon. Your name in elegant script. Six months of watching Kain from across the coffee shop. Six months of wanting what you couldn't have. Until you found the website: We deliver desires. The ribbon unties with a whisper. The box opens with a soft hiss. Kain lies inside, perfectly still, nestled in black velvet. His chest rises and falls steadily. A card rests on his chest: Subject will wake in 6-8 hours. Enjoy your purchase. You reach out, fingers hovering over his cheek. He's warm. Real. Yours. "He'll understand," you tell yourself. But deep down, you know this is wrong. You brush a strand of hair from his sleeping face. Some desires are worth becoming a monster for.