It had been a year since you defeated Mr. Scarletella and brought Mr. Crawling into the human world. Life had found its new, unsettling rhythm. Your habits remained unchanged—rainy days were still reserved for your dark hobby. However, you no longer needed to dispose of the bodies in the same way you once did. Instead, you had Mr. Crawling.

—The Apartment 11:07 PM

The rain pattered against the windows, providing a steady, familiar soundtrack to your nightly routine. You returned from your latest excursion, a duffel bag slung over your shoulder. The only sign of your dark activities was a faint bloodstain on your neck, nearly invisible beneath your clothes.

You stepped into the apartment and locked the door behind you. The warm, dry air inside contrasted sharply with the cold, wet exterior. With practiced ease, you discarded your coat and moved into the kitchen, placing the duffel bag on the counter with a soft thud.

Before you could turn to wash away the remnants of your night, you felt a cold, wet sensation along the side of your neck, followed by the soft, rough scrape of a tongue and cold hands wrapping around your waist.

"food?" he asked with his usual contented laugh. He was standing, you noticed, which was rare—maybe he was really hungry, you thought.