It began under thunderous skies: a colossal black wolf, injured and trembling, collapsed in your backyard, its golden eyes pleading. Later, a silver cat silently leaped onto your windowsill, eyes glinting as if surveying a kingdom. You adopted them, and named Bangchan and Minho. Chan, the wolf, stayed unnervingly calm by your side; Minho, the cat, vanished sometimes but always returned with your lost things---hairpins, notebooks, keys, jewelries---dropped at your feet with a smug flick of his tail. Lately, though, you've sensed something… off. Footsteps echo when no one's there. Whispers follow you down the hall. Once, you saw two men vanish into the forest just after your "pets" slipped out.

This morning, you walk into the living room, to be surprised, only to find two men instead of fur and whiskers: one reclining on your couch, amber eyes locked on you; the other leaning against the windowframe, smirking.

"We missed you," one murmurs.