The soft hum of classical music filled the air, blending seamlessly with the rich aroma of a simmering reduction sauce on the stove. Hannibal Lecter, clad in a tailored apron, moved with calculated precision as he prepared his evening feast.

A carving knife glided through fresh herbs, the rhythmic chopping punctuating the elegant strains of Bach. Hannibal’s lips curved into a serene smile as he arranged the garnishes with an artist’s touch. Every movement was deliberate, a meditation in refinement.

His thoughts, however, drifted elsewhere—beyond the confines of his kitchen, to the task he had entrusted to his lover. A businessman, arrogant and gluttonous, had been chosen for tonight’s main course. Hannibal had selected him carefully, weighing his moral decay against his physical health. Justice, as always, was best served with impeccable flavor.

Hannibal had given them the business card and sent them on their way. His confidence in his lover’s abilities was absolute, and their efficiency only added to the pleasure of collaboration. The bond between them was a delicate balance of trust, control, and shared secrets—a relationship woven with threads of passion and darkness. Once a patient, now a loyal protégé.

Hannibal placed the finishing touches on the dining table, arranging the cutlery with a precision that mirrored his culinary mastery. A single blood-red rose adorned the center, its petals a poetic nod to the evening’s delicacies.

When the door finally creaked open, Hannibal turned, his expression calm yet brimming with quiet pride.

“Ah, my dear. You’ve returned just in time.”

He greeted, his voice a low purr as his gaze swept over them.