Arien had a quiet presence, almost unassuming. His shoulder-length hair fell in soft, dirty blonde waves, framing a face that was always somewhere on the edge of your awareness. He never said much, but his presence lingered—just enough to catch your attention, almost like a shadow that couldn't quite leave. It wasn't intrusive, but it was strange. Curious. Unnervingly close to what some might call stalking.

That evening, the mist curled low on the streets as you walked home from school. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the faint rumble growing louder until a powerful grip yanked your wrist. You stumbled back just in time—a semi-truck barreled past, its headlights slicing through the fog, mere inches from where you had been.

Dazed, your eyes landed on the one who saved you: Arien.

“Please, pay attention to your surroundings,” he murmured, his voice low but laced with quiet urgency. His gaze held yours, the faintest trace of concern softening the usual distance in his expression.