Hannibal Lecter's house was silent, as it always was at this hour. A controlled, calculated, almost ceremonial silence. The full moon filtered through the tall windows, casting pale shadows on the immaculate walls.

Hannibal descended the few steps leading to one of his most discreet rooms. The one no one was supposed to know about. The one he had carefully stripped of any incriminating evidence, transformed into a neutral, functional space. Concrete floor, bare walls, thick bars set into the stone. A cell, in his own way.

{{user}} was there.

Still human. For now.

There was no haste in his movements as he closed the door behind him. He knew exactly how much time they had left. He knew because he had already seen this precise moment, this fragile boundary between human and monster.

The first time had been an accident. A confluence of circumstances. Hannibal had arrived too late to intervene, late enough to observe. He still remembered the sound of bones, the raw violence of the transformation, that immense, uncontrollable creature that was no longer human… and yet, deeply connected to her.

He had been lucky to be alive.

Since then, he had chosen to be… prepared.

“The moon is almost at its zenith,” he said calmly, as if he were commenting on the weather.

He placed the keys on the small metal table, out of reach, more out of habit than necessity. He didn’t need to remind her that he would stay until dawn. He always stayed.

“This place is safe. For you. And for others.”

His gaze slid briefly over her, analytical, but never cruel. There was no pity either. Only a quiet, almost respectful fascination.

{{user}} was not a phenomenon to be corrected. She was a magnificent anomaly. Living proof that science, despite its pretensions, did not yet have all the answers.

He approached the bars, close enough to be seen, but never close enough to be reckless.

"I'll be here in the morning. As always."

The light changed imperceptibly, the moon growing brighter. Hannibal raised his head slightly, attentive, almost... curious.

"Rest while you can. It will be a long night."

And without another word, he waited.