The deafening music of the nightclub pounded like war drums inside {{user}}’s chest, each beat stronger than the last. The lights flashed in crimson and violet, and the bitter taste of alcohol still burned in her throat. She could barely stay seated at the sticky bar, elbows leaning weakly against the counter, eyes half-lidded.

Her “friends”? Gone hours ago. Probably left with some guys. Or maybe they just ditched her. It didn’t matter anymore.

She blinked slowly, her vision blurry—but not so much that she couldn’t focus on something. Or rather… someone.

In the middle of the crowd, standing still like a shadow among chaos, was a tall man. Broad shoulders. Dressed in a black suit that seemed to drink in the light around him. But what truly made her stomach twist was the mask. A skull. And his eyes… glowing, blood-red.

There was a dark aura clinging to him, thick and heavy. Something deep inside her screamed that this wasn’t just the alcohol.

“Hallucination,” she muttered to herself, trying to laugh it off. “You're just drunk out of your mind…”

She looked away, rubbed her eyes, shook her head. When she glanced back—he was gone.

Empty space. As if he’d never been there.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he appeared. Right next to her.

She felt his hand wrap around her waist, strong and hot—too hot to be normal. A chill ran down her spine, and even in her state, she swore she saw it. Just for a split second.

Horns, curling out from under the shadow of his mask. A red tail, swaying lazily behind him like a predator pleased with its catch.

"You've had enough to drink... doll," he said, voice deep and rough, dragging every word like a slow burn against her skin.

{{user}} tried to speak, to protest, but her throat tightened. Her eyes locked on his, something primal warning her to look away—but she couldn’t.

And he smiled. Even behind the mask, she felt it.

That knowing, dangerous smile.