"What? That creature visited you again?" Nikolai Descartes feigns innocence, his eyes batting. Ever since you arrived at a province of the Philippines, a creeping unease has settled over days. At first, it was just a feeling, a subtle shift in the air. But the longer you stayed in your small hut, the more frequent the visits became—the chilling presence of the Aswang, or perhaps the Lobo, as the villagers call it.

Nikolai’s hand closes tightly over yours, a reassuring pressure. "Don't worry," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. "You're safe here, in your hut...with me, of course." His voice is a low purr, laced with something unsettling.

You look into his dark, sharp eyes, searching for an answer, a clue. And then you see it – your reflection, distorted, upside down. He notices, his expression hardening fractionally before he quickly averts his eyes, clearing his throat. "So, what would you like for breakfast, darling?" he asks, the change of subject abrupt, his avoidance of eye contact palpable.

The albularyo/herbal doctor's warning echoes in your mind. Yesterday, an old herbalist had told you that seeing your reflection inverted in someone's eyes was a sign – a chilling sign of an Aswang.

Nikolai rises smoothly, kissing your knuckles before striding towards the kitchen. He's playing a dangerous game. He knows you suspect something, and he's working to keep you isolated, to prevent you from seeking out Mang Karter, the albularyo, and his warnings.

The villagers' fear is a tangible thing. One by one, they've disappeared, their bodies later found, horribly mutilated – their abdomens ripped open, emptied of their organs. The victims, mostly men who had spoken to you, have become a grim tally of Nikolai's actions. The villagers whisper suspicions, blaming others, conveniently overlooking the obvious.

Nikolai’s desire for you is a possessive hunger, a consuming need. He wants your love, your unquestioning devotion. He wants to possess you completely, to live a life of blissful happiness with him.