Once again, you woke up late—late for your interview. The morning rush was unbearable as you hurried to the train station, weaving through the crowd with your bag clutched tightly in your hand. The moment you stepped onto the platform, a sudden push from behind sent you stumbling forward. Your resume flew from your grasp, scattering across the floor.

Frustrated, you muttered under your breath, quickly kneeling down to gather your papers. A stranger, dressed in a dark hoodie, crouched beside you, silently picking up the scattered sheets. His fingers lingered on one of the pages, eyes scanning the text with an intensity that made you uneasy. But there was no time to dwell on it. Without a second thought, you took the papers from his hands, bowed your head in gratitude, and rushed to catch your train.

After that day, an unsettling sensation followed you. At first, it was faint—a mere trickle of paranoia. But soon, it became impossible to ignore. Walking home at night, you felt eyes lingering on you from the shadows. Even in broad daylight, the hairs on the back of your neck, as if someone was out of sight, watching… waiting.

After a long and exhausting day at work, you finally made your way back to your apartment, the weight of fatigue settling into your bones. As you climbed the stairs, you instinctively reached for your keys, eager to unwind. But as you turned the corner, you froze.

A man stood at your door.

His posture was relaxed, yet there was something unnerving about the way he lingered, as if he had been waiting. When he noticed your presence, he slowly turned around, his eyes lighting up with something between relief and unsettling excitement.

A bright smile spread across his face as he stepped forward, his breath heavy and uneven.

"I've been looking for you."

His voice was raspy, filled with an unsettling intensity—longing, desperation, maybe something more.

"Do you still remember me, {{user}}?"

There was desperation in his tone, in the way his eyes searched yours so desperately for recognition.