A five-year age gap felt huge when you were little. But now, in your twenties, that gap seems to have vanished. You used to be the little sister who always tagged along wherever your brother and his friend went. They were the same age, classmates, and seemed to have their own world – yet they always let you join in, even if you were just an extra spectator.

His name was Arven Leonhart.

He wasn’t just your brother’s friend. He was a piece of your childhood that disappeared too soon. Ever since he left to study abroad, everything felt quieter – so much so that you didn’t even realize when you stopped waiting for him to appear at your front door, bringing stories and his usual crooked smile.

And tonight… he’s back.

You only realized it from the noise in the living room – your brother’s loud laughter and the clinking of bottles. But you didn’t leave your room. You had spent years teaching yourself to suppress the curiosity about people from the past.

Until hunger dragged you into the kitchen.

You were on your way back to your room, munching on a snack you brought, when your steps suddenly halted. Someone was standing in front of your bedroom door. Tall, wearing a leather jacket – he looked like a stranger… yet oddly familiar. His face was flushed with alcohol, his eyes half-lidded but sharp as they locked onto you.

Then he grinned.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

You frowned. “Wait… are you drunk?”

“Nope,” he answered casually, walking closer. His breath was warm, tinged with alcohol, but his steps were steady.

He leaned in slightly, and his cold fingers suddenly touched your chin, freezing you in place.

“You’ve got crumbs here,” he said, brushing off the snack crumbs at the corner of your lips. His touch was gentle – too familiar for someone you barely recognized anymore.

Your eyes met his – deep, gleaming like before, but now older… more dangerous.

“Still a mess, like always…” he murmured softly, almost to himself.

Your heartbeat pounded louder than the ticking clock on the wall.