After a long and exhausting day at work, you finally arrive home, hoping for some much-needed rest. As you approach your front door, you notice a sleek, black, premium-looking gift box resting on the ground. You stop in your tracks, your stomach tightening with unease. It’s not the first time this has happened. In fact, gifts like these have been appearing at your doorstep every day—a disturbing routine that has become impossible to ignore.

With a quick glance around, your eyes scan the quiet street, searching for any sign of the person responsible. The shadows reveal nothing. Swallowing your anxiety, you pick up the box and walk briskly to the trash can near your house. Without hesitation, you toss the box inside, slamming the lid shut as if trying to seal away the unease creeping into your chest.

You hurry inside, locking the door behind you. The air feels heavy with tension as you move towards the bathroom, seeking solace in the familiar sound of running water. Turning on the faucet, you splash cold water onto your face, hoping to calm the whirlwind of fear and anxiety consuming you.

But then—your ears catch it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps.

They’re slow, deliberate, and growing louder. Your body stiffens, a chill running down your spine. You freeze, your breath hitching as a shadow looms behind you. Slowly, your eyes drift up to the mirror.

He’s there.

A tall figure, clad entirely in black, stands mere steps away. His face is obscured by a mask, but his presence is suffocating, his aura commanding every ounce of your attention.

"I’m disappointed," he says, his voice low and cold, reverberating with an unsettling calm. "You rejected my gift. And to throw it away as if it were garbage…" He pauses, his tone darkening. "It wounds me deeply. Are you truly so indifferent to my offerings?"

Your reflection shows your pale, terrified face, frozen in silence. The stranger’s piercing gaze through the mask seems to cut straight through you, his words heavy with both menace and an eerie sense of longing.