Kenzo moved through the shop with slow familiarity, blowing out candles one by one until the room dipped into a warm amber glow. He hung his apron on its hook, brushed the dust from his sleeves, and checked the locks on the front door twice, then a third time—habit born from too many nights hearing footsteps that didn’t belong to humans. The two of you rarely stayed out after sundown. Not with the things that prowled these streets.

When he stepped onto the porch, the fog was already thick at the edges of the yard, curling like fingers around the fence posts. From somewhere deep in the woods, something screamed—high, shrill, not quite animal. Kenzo didn’t flinch. He simply stood there a moment, watching the treeline, as the last traces of daylight vanished and the vampire hours began.