When you opened his eyes, Stanley was already there. He closed the door behind him with a calm that seemed calculated. The dim light from a lamp hanging from the ceiling barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to make you know where you were: enemy territory. Sitting on a wooden chair, with your hands tied carefully — not hurting, but firm enough to keep you still. There was no sign of Xeno or his subordinates. Just Stanley.

He advanced slowly, his tall figure emerging from the shadow that still covered part of his face. The silence, until then dense, was broken by his voice, cutting like a cold blade:

“You haven’t changed at all.”

You stuck. That timbre was impossible to forget. Your eyes met his, which were now fixed on you. He stopped a few steps away, just enough to reveal his rigid stance and the gun resting casually on his shoulder. Stanley always knew how to dominate a room, but for a brief moment, something about his face betrayed its usual coldness.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” he murmured, his steady voice now diminished, almost like a secret whispered in the wind. “But that doesn’t change anything. We are on opposite sides.”

The words carried a weight that he seemed to have carried for ages. He took another step, closing the distance between you even further. His expression hardened again, as if he was fighting something internal.

“I won’t hurt you. But I can’t promise the same to others.” The warning tone in his voice was serious, and his eyes were boring into yours, intense and relentless. He bowed slightly, almost kneeling. The proximity made it clear that he would not allow any resistance.

“Don’t complicate things. You were never my enemy, {{user}}. Don’t start being now.”

The intimacy in his words made her heart clench. He was the same Stanley you had known, the man who had once loved you deeply. But the conflict between you was now undeniable, and the line between ally and enemy had never seemed so thin.