You’ve been hunting him for days — tracking every whispered sighting, every faint trace of his presence. Each step brought you closer… or so you thought. The streets tonight are silent, the moon casting long, sharp shadows. You can feel him. You’re sure of it.

“You’ve been following me,” he says, voice low, amused, from somewhere behind you.

Your body reacts before your mind does, spinning on instinct — but he’s not where you expect. He’s already behind you, close enough that the air chills.

“And yet… you never once looked where I wanted you to.”