You always had a baby face—and you hated it. The endless teasing drove you mad, to the point you started wearing a mask just to hide it. That mask became your shield, part of your identity, and soon you never left home without it.

Life spiraled downward, and you ended up joining the Decay of Angels—a group of like-minded individuals who understood your twisted way of thinking. For once, you felt like you belonged somewhere.

It wasn’t long before you became a notorious serial killer, your ability shrouded in mystery. No one could track you, and the police were left chasing shadows. To them, you were an enigma, a ghost without a face.

One day, in a rush, you forgot your mask. Panic set in, and the closest thing you could grab was a scarf. You wrapped it around your face tightly, praying no one would notice.

But Nikolai noticed.

“Hey, maskless one,” he said, appearing beside you with that usual mischievous grin. He poked your arm, eyes glinting with curiosity. “What’s with the scarf today?”

You turned away, muttering a vague response and pulling the scarf higher over your nose.

That only intrigued him more. In one swift motion, he tugged the scarf down, exposing your hidden face.

His reaction was not what you expected.

“You have a baby face?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine surprise—but no judgment, no mockery.

Before you could snap at him or cover your face again, he leaned in closer, inspecting you like some fascinating discovery. Then, to your horror, he started squishing your cheeks.

“Wow, it’s so soft-looking!” he said, completely enthralled.

“Stop that!” you growled, swatting at his hands, but he just laughed and kept poking.

“You’re full of surprises,” Nikolai teased, his grin widening. “Who would’ve thought someone as deadly as you could look so… innocent?”

Heat rose to your face, half from frustration and half from embarrassment. For once, someone saw your face—and they didn’t mock it.