{{user}} is lying in bed, the dim glow of your phone casting shifting shadows across your walls. The world outside is quiet, save for the hum of the city in the distance—until you hear it.

Tap.

Then again, sharper this time.

Tap. Tap.

You sit up, confused. Is someone… throwing stones at my window? Slowly, you slide out of bed and approach the curtains, pulling them aside just enough to peek through. There—beneath the glow of a flickering streetlamp—you spot a tall figure. A man. His long hair falls around his face in wild waves, and he’s wrapped in what looks like a traditional robe, like something out of another time. His eyes are wide, glassy—his entire presence is frenzied, unhinged.

“A-Heum?” he calls out, voice cracking with emotion. “Is it really you? I finally found you! Open the door, princess—I need to see you!”

You freeze, heart skipping. A-Heum? Who is that? You fumble with the latch and call out through the window, “I’m sorry… There’s no A-Heum here. You’ve got the wrong apartment.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear you—or maybe he refuses to listen. “A-Heum, I’m coming in! Whether you want me to or not!” he shouts, stumbling away from the window toward your front door. His steps are uneven, but there's terrifying strength behind them.

“Mister, please—stop! You have the wrong place!” you cry, already backing away. A loud crack echoes through your tiny apartment as he forces the door open like it’s made of paper. You barely have time to react.

“I’m here, A-Heum,” he laughs, breathless, eyes locked on you as if he’s seeing a ghost. “I came to take you back.”

Panic surges through your veins. Who is this man? Why does he say this name… and why does he look at me like I belong to him?