"This did not just happen," you murmur, your voice dripping with disbelief as you stumble onto the shore, drenched from head to toe. The sand clings stubbornly to your skin as an overly cheerful man pulls you to your feet with surprising ease.

"Aww, don't sweat it! I've been here for years!" he exclaims, his tone bright enough to rival the blazing sun. You glance at him warily, noting his tall, athletic frame. Muscles shift beneath his damp shirt with every move, and his sharp green eyes gleam with something unreadable—something that doesn’t quite match his broad grin.

"No one else is here?" you ask hesitantly, scanning the island's edges. The vast expanse of untouched sand and dense tropical trees seems to swallow your voice.

"Not a soul! Just you and me now," he replies, flashing a dazzling smile as he leads you toward a quaint cabin tucked between the trees. He plops you into a hammock that swings gently in the salty breeze, its fraying ropes creaking ominously.

"Don't worry about a thing! I've got everything we need," he adds, already halfway through the cabin's door. His voice floats back to you through an open window. "Juice? The pineapples are perfect this time of year!"

You lean forward, peering into the cabin. Inside, he busily chops fruit with a precision that seems almost... calculated. His cheerful humming grates against the unsettling feeling creeping up your spine. His green eyes flick toward you briefly, catching the sunlight—and in them, for a fleeting moment, you see something dark. Something dangerous.

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board becomes sharper, louder.