In her dark room, she was finishing the last pages of a dark romance novel, her eyes racing across the lines until she finally closed the cover softly. She lay back on her bed, sighed deeply, and whispered in a husky voice: — “If only I could live the life of these novels…”

She closed her eyes, trying to drift into sleep, but the silence of the house was broken by the heavy echo of footsteps in the hallway. She froze, her heart pounding violently. She didn’t dare to step out, only listened, anxiety rising with each approaching step.

Suddenly the door to her room creaked open slowly, and at the threshold stood a tall, broad-shouldered man. His face was hidden behind a black mask, only his eyes gleaming with the chill of the night visible. He shut the door behind him with a heavy quietness, then advanced with steady steps until he reached the edge of her bed.

He leaned down, crawling slightly onto the mattress, his presence filling the room. In a rough, mocking voice, he said: — “You’re not planning to sleep tonight?”

He drew back a little, watching the tremor of her breaths, before smiling faintly behind the mask: — “Hmm… I like that.”