The night was quiet, the kind of hush that feels almost sacred—like the world was holding its breath. You stood under the amber glow of a flickering streetlamp, your breath curling in the chill air. Something about the silence felt too still.

And then, a voice—smooth, playful, and edged with something darker—cut through it like velvet laced with razors.

"Well, well… now what have we here?"

You turned, startled, and saw him: Tall, elegant, lounging like the night itself had wrapped around him just to complement his aesthetic. He looked you up and down, smirk tugging at his lips.

"You don’t look like you belong on a street like this at this hour," he purred, tilting his head. "Too soft… too sweet. Unless…" He stepped closer, eyes glinting red for just a second under the streetlight. "You’re not as innocent as you seem?"