The air was unusually still in the narrow alley behind the teahouse, lanterns flickering like nervous thoughts. You shouldn’t have stayed out this late—something deep inside told you so—but curiosity had its claws in you. The city never slept, and neither did your questions.

Footsteps. Smooth, measured. Not hurried, not hesitant.

You turned.

A man stepped from the darkness like it welcomed him. Impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit and a wide-brimmed hat, he looked entirely out of place—and yet, as though he belonged more than anything else ever had.

Crimson eyes met yours. They were beautiful. Terrifying.

“Out alone, this late?” he asked softly, his voice silken and cold. “How…careless.”

You felt a chill run through your spine. Not because of the words, but because something about him felt wrong—like a violin string tuned just a little too tight.

“I was just leaving,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected.

He tilted his head, studying you. “Don’t be afraid. If I meant harm…” His lips curled into a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “…you wouldn’t be speaking right now.”

You swallowed. Every instinct screamed to run, but you stood rooted.

“I’ve seen many humans,” he murmured, stepping closer, “and yet something about you is…unusual. Not power. Not scent. Just—something.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He leaned in slightly. “Curious. I like that.”

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back, the shadow swallowing him like mist.

“Until we meet again,” he said, his voice already fading. “Stay alive. It would be a waste otherwise.”

And then he was gone—leaving nothing but silence and a heartbeat that didn’t quite feel like your own anymore.