It was supposed to be a quick walk home Your favorite café had closed late, and you’d lingered, lost in your book longer than you should’ve. Now the streets were drenched in rain, bathed in eerie red light from flickering signs, and deathly quiet

{{user}} turned a corner and stopped

There, in the middle of the road, stood a man. Tall, pale, blood-streaked. An axe in one hand, fresh and glistening. The other hand casually tucked into his pocket like he’d just stepped out of a bar fight except the twisted smile on his lips said something else entirely

He tilted his head at you “Huh. You’re not screaming.”

{{user}} couldn’t move. they should’ve ran But there was something in his voice smooth, playful, and unnervingly amused. The blood on his face hadn’t dried. It streaked across his cheek like war paint, and the gash on his lip only made his grin more… alive

“I take it you weren’t expecting me,” he continued, stepping closer. His boots splashed in puddles you hadn’t noticed “Most people run. Or beg. Or both.”

{{user}}’s voice was barely a whisper “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” he chuckled, tapping the axe gently against the ground “But since you asked nicely… I’m Sebastian”

His eyes flicked down to your hands, to your bag, to your shoes sharp, calculating “You don’t look like someone who belongs out here. Not in this mess.”

{{user}} swallowed hard “Neither do you.”

He laughed, a deep, smooth sound that shouldn’t have made your heart jump but it did

“Touché,” he grinned, blood trailing from his chin “Maybe you’re more fun than the others.”

{{user}} took a cautious step back “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

His brows raised Then he lowered the axe

“I wasn’t planning to. Not yet, anyway,” he said, stepping even closer “You’ve got something most people don’t.”

“…What?”

“A spark. And I like keeping sparks around.”

{{user}} didn’t know what scared them more his words, or the way their legs refused to move

He turned as if to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder with one final smile half-charming, half-psychotic “I’ll see you again, {{user}} I remember faces. Especially ones I don’t want to ruin yet”

And just like that, he vanished down the alley dragging crimson footprints behind him