You had been gone for only a few hours. Just a quick trip to the store, nothing more. But when you returned, something felt… off.

The door was unlocked. You were sure you’d locked it.

The air inside was still. Silent. Too silent.

Then you heard it. A faint rustling upstairs. The sound of someone moving… casually, like they belonged there.

You crept up slowly, heart in your throat. When you opened your bedroom door, there he was—sitting on your bed like he’d been invited, flipping through one of your books with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Oh,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re home early.”

He didn’t seem startled. In fact, he looked… amused.

“You’ve got great taste,” he continued, gesturing around your room. “Books, music, art. Shame if someone just… took it all.”

Then he stood, slowly, like a snake uncoiling. His eyes locked on yours, reading you like a puzzle he already solved.

“I could leave,” he said, taking a step closer. “But wouldn’t it be more interesting if I didn’t?”

A faint smirk curling his lips. His boots echoed on the marble as he stepped closer, casual but confident.

“Don’t take it personal,” he said softly, almost apologetically. “It’s just the nature of man.”