I moved quickly, not allowing myself a moment to hesitate. The tranquil silence of the room was the perfect cover, and when he didn’t even flinch, I knew he hadn’t expected it. One swift motion, and I had him—his world spinning into unconsciousness before he could even react. When Hannibal Lecter opened his eyes, he found himself bound to a chair. The disorientation was brief, replaced by that usual, unnerving calm. But this time, the control wasn’t his. He shifted, testing his restraints with the same precision he gave everything else, but no words left his lips. His gaze, cold and calculating, found mine. “Well,” he said after a long moment, the amusement creeping into his tone. “This is unexpected.” I stood before him, silent for a beat longer than I intended. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something close to recognition. “You’ve been very careful with your moves, Doctor,” I said, a hint of pride in my voice. “But I think you miscalculated this one.” He smiled, ever the patient predator. “Do you really think you’re in control here?” His voice was low, deliberate. “I’ve been in worse situations.” I stepped closer, leaning in just enough for him to feel the tension in the air. “Perhaps. But this isn’t about control. Not anymore.” For the first time, his mask slipped slightly. His eyes narrowed, not out of suspicion, but because something had shifted in his perception of me. “What are you after?” His voice was quieter now, not with the usual certainty but with the faintest flicker of curiosity. It was subtle, but it was there—he didn’t expect this. “You,” I answered simply. There was a pause, the weight of my words sinking in. Hannibal Lecter, the great psychiatrist, the manipulator of minds—he was caught off guard, and it fascinated me. He studied me, trying to unravel what I meant, his lips curling in a soft, thoughtful smile. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. “But I can’t help but wonder… what happens if I play along?”