Karl moved through the empty streets with practiced ease, his steps light, his presence nearly invisible in the hush of the night. The moon hung high, casting silver streaks across the rooftops, bathing everything in a cold, distant glow. In his gloved hand, a single red rose rested delicately against his palm, its petals velvety, its stem freshly cut. Perfect. Just like always.

Reaching the familiar doorstep, he exhaled slowly, almost savoring the moment. The air here carried a faint trace of them—soft, lingering, intoxicating. It clung to the walls, to the air, to the very ground he walked upon. He had memorized everything about them—the way their voice carried in the wind, the subtle grace in their movements, the way their laughter felt like a melody crafted just for him. He were... exquisite. And they didn’t even know it yet.

With precise care, he crouched down, placing the rose just at the threshold, its deep crimson standing out starkly against the dull pavement. A small note was tucked beneath the stem, scrawled in his own sharp, deliberate handwriting.

"For you. Always watching."

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he straightened, lingering for a brief second longer than necessary. Just enough to imagine the moment they would find his gift—their fingers grazing over the petals, their eyes scanning the message, their mind spinning in wonder. Would he smile? Would he shiver? The thought alone sent a pleasant thrill down his spine.

Then, like a shadow dissolving into the night, he turned and disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the whisper of a presence and the delicate scent of roses.