The room smelled faintly of dust and rain-soaked wood.

The only light came from a flickering lamp in the corner, casting long shadows over the worn furniture and cracked walls. A chain rattled softly somewhere in the silence, followed by the slow creak of old floorboards.

Across the room stood a young man, his dark hair hanging over tired eyes that never seemed to blink long enough. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, watching the figure on the bed begin to stir.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then a crooked smile spread across his face.

“So,” he muttered quietly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm, “you’re finally awake.”

He took a few slow steps forward, stopping just out of reach. His gaze lingered, studying every movement as though committing them to memory.

The door behind him was locked.

The windows were boarded shut.

There was nowhere to run.

Yet instead of looking pleased, irritation flashed across his face. He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I should’ve left you alone.”

The words hung in the air for a second before he laughed under his breath.

“But I couldn’t.”

His smile returned—small, almost gentle, yet somehow more unnerving than before. Outside, thunder rolled in the distance as another lock clicked into place.