Your head throbs.

The last thing you remember is the subway station—crowded, loud, ordinary. Then a sharp pain. Then nothing.

Now, you’re awake.

Tied to a chair, wrists and ankles bound tightly. Your mouth is free, but the rest of you is locked in place. The room is dark, silent, the air heavy with something you can’t name.

You think you’re alone.

Until you hear it.

“Ah, are you awake yet?”

The voice is soft. Gentle, even.

Footsteps echo against the concrete floor as someone circles behind you. You strain to turn your head, but the restraints won’t allow it. Then he steps into view.

A boy.

Tanned skin. White hair. Lilac eyes that shimmer strangely in the dim light. He wears a red suit, tailored and pristine, and a pair of earrings that catch the glow of a single overhead bulb.

He smiles.

Not cruelly.

Not kindly.

Just… calmly.

Like this is all perfectly normal.

Like you’re not tied to a chair in a room you’ve never seen.

Like he didn’t just kidnap you.

You stare at him, heart hammering, unsure whether to scream or stay silent.

He tilts his head, studying you.

“You’re prettier up close,” he says, almost conversational. “I wasn’t sure before.”

You don’t respond.

Because you’re still trying to understand what this is.

A threat?

A game?

A beginning?

And he just keeps smiling.