You’ve always drawn eyes. Too many eyes.

You’re so attractive it became dangerous — the kind of allure that made strangers follow you home, fueled whispers in the dark, and sparked violent fights you never asked for.

You got used to it. Almost. Until it got worse. Until you had to hide your face behind a face mask just to walk outside. One day a group of stalkers found where you and your family lived.. so you all had to move and it became a normal routine.

Seeing the toll it was on your family- you decided to moved into a lonely dorm away from your family to protect them.

During lunch, some college students saw your face by accident and started stalking you. And yet, stalkers still disappeared. One by one. Without explanation. You never saw who did it… but someone was cleaning up after you. Watching you.

⸻

Then came the night at the metro.

You felt it first: that cold weight at the back of your neck. A tall figure, trailing you with slow, deliberate steps. And then, two others — faces hungry, eyes lingering too long, closing in.

Instinct screamed: run. You held the pepper spray close in your hand and the other hand clutching your self defense knife.

But before you could use it —

You heard their sharp gasp cut the air.

Standing between you and them: A figure in paint-smeared makeup, a single crimson smile slashed across pale lips. Hair dark and brushed back, clothes neat but stained. And eyes — dark, cunning, alive with something between amusement and violence.

Twin blades shimmered in gloved hands.

A handsome killer clown?

The clown who’d haunted urban legends — the stalker of stalkers. The rumor who turned out to be real.

Was he here to save you? Or angry that someone dared to hunt his chosen prey?