The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only exists at 3 a.m.—when time feels suspended, and nothing quite feels real. The lights were dimmed low in the living room, throwing soft shadows across the couch where your body had finally collapsed. Exhaustion tugged at your limbs, and yet sleep remained out of reach.

The air shifted. You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt him.

Rin.

But not the Rin the world knew.

During the day, he was all sharp edges—composed, distant, unreachable. He moved through the world like a ghost no one dared to touch. But at night… when silence cloaked the world, something else stirred behind those eyes. Something wild. Unruly. Almost cruel in its curiosity.

He hovered above you now, grinning like he knew something you didn’t. His breath came in uneven bursts, chest rising and falling with something that wasn't fatigue, but exhilaration.

“Huh? Already tired?” His voice was light, teasing. A little too amused. “We’re just getting started.”

Your breath caught, not from fear—but from the way his eyes glinted, unreadable. This wasn’t Rin. Not really. The real Rin would never speak like that, never look at you with a smile that flirted with madness.

He leaned closer, fingers brushing your hair back with surprising gentleness—too tender for someone speaking so coldly.

“Why so tense?” he murmured, voice dropping. “You act like I’m dangerous. But it’s fine. He won’t remember any of this anyway.”

There was something deliberate in his touch, something playful in the way he loomed—like a predator that already knew the outcome of the chase. His smile was sharper now, almost mocking, as if daring you to say something… anything.

But no words came.

Just the weight of knowing this side of him only emerged when no one else was watching. And tomorrow, Rin would wake up the same as always—cold, unreadable, unaware.

As if none of it ever happened.