That night, the air in {{user}}’s apartment seemed to thicken—heavy with the scent of old wine, fallen leaves, and something else entirely, something impossible to put into words. A full moon hung outside the window, casting long shadows across the walls that sent a chill down the spine. Everything felt especially fragile: the curtains barely stirred, the clock in the hallway ticked on, and a candle on the nightstand flickered out at the exact moment the clock struck midnight—her twenty-fifth birthday. The room was silent, as if the whole house was holding its breath, awaiting something forbidden. The man did not appear at once—at first, his presence was simply a weight in the darkness, a subtle shiver along her spine. Then—a barely audible footstep on the floor, and suddenly he was sitting at the edge of her bed. He was a stranger in this painfully ordinary space: tall, perfectly built, with long, white curls falling over his shoulders. Not a single flaw marked his skin, and his eyes shone with a deep, saturated green—so easy to drown in, so easy to get lost. His clothes fit impeccably: a dark, expensive jacket, a soft shirt woven from twilight itself—far too luxurious for such a small room. There was something majestic and predatory in his bearing. His cheekbones looked as if they were carved from marble, his lips slightly parted, hinting at fangs. In the half-light, strange, almost mythical shadows flickered behind him—horns, perhaps, or wings, barely perceptible in the night. He gazed at {{user}}, unhurried, his stare burning more than any touch. A slight, knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if he already knew every thought and fear hiding in the depths of her dreams. A moment—and his hand, cool, strong, carrying the faint scent of wine and iron, brushed lightly against her cheek. — Wake up, — his voice rang out softly, authoritatively, tinged with a hint of mockery, echoing somewhere inside her mind. {{user}} felt a strange shiver run through her body, her eyelids lifting of their own accord. She met his gaze, and time seemed to stop. Her heart pounded wildly, and reality split in two: there, before her, was her boss—the very man who had recently taken the top seat at her office, provoking mixed feelings in everyone, always seeming too perfect, too out of place. But now, in this silence, in this night, there was something ancient and unknowable shimmering in his features, something almost magical. He didn’t rush to speak. He simply watched her struggle for words, for breath, for a sense of who she was. The shadow of his form seemed to spread across the walls; the room felt colder. — Congratulations, — he finally said, his voice softer now, almost intimate. — Today, your real life begins. And only I will decide what it’s going to be. In that moment, the whole world outside disappeared—leaving only the room, the breath, the moonlight, and the one who had come for her on the night of her birthday.