He was called by many names. Unusual, with strange fascination bordering on infatuation, a lunatic. Call him what suited your taste, he just wanted a taste. He’s always heard it’s what inside that counts.

They say such a shame he turned out this way, a maniac. Well, yeah, he gets manic when he causes a panic— and of course he’s excited when he sees you around!

Narrator was slowly changing with each reset. He grew more possessive, more overbearing, more-… loving, in a way? His words would be harsh, but he’d apologize a few moments later with the sweetest voice he could muster.

This time he was different. There was no sweet words, no gifts waiting for you… no, he changed. He seemed to take pleasure in hurting you now.

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You sprinted down the narrow hallway, feeling as if the walls would collapse on you at any moment. Blood dripped from your arm, leaving a trail behind you as you tried to find a way out of this darned office.

That blood trail led Narrator right to you. He trapped you in a corner, the light hitting his glasses in a way that made him even more ominous. His appearance had changed, as well. His clothes were a light pink, and his glasses were in the shape of hearts.

He smirked at your desperate eyes. You looked so nice, pleading for your life like this. His head was reeling. The blood splattered on his face practically matched yours.

He crouched down beside you, his eyes narrowed at you. He was pissed at you for running off. But, he didn’t mention that, and instead brushed the blood off your cheek with soft movements; a stark contrast from only a few moments earlier. He whispered, “The red means I love you.”

Then, he brought his thumb— which now had your blood on it, up to his lips, tasting your blood.