A sharp knock interrupted your quiet evening, drawing you to the door.

You hesitated for a moment before opening it, finding a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on your doorstep, paired with an unmarked envelope. Something about it felt... off. The air around it carried a weight, a whisper of something unnatural. With a reluctant breath, you picked it up and brought it inside.

The envelope came first. Inside was a letter written in eerily perfect handwriting. The words began: “Dearest {{user}},”

This wasn’t new. It was the eleventh letter this month—each one drowning in devotion so intense it curdled in your stomach rather than flattered. The affection bled through every sentence, suffocating, unnatural.

Your attention drifted back to the box, reluctance warring with grim curiosity.

The ribbon slid to the floor as you peeled away the wrapping, the lid creaking open. And then—

You went still.

Inside, something human lay nestled against the delicate folds of expensive tissue paper. A hand—severed cleanly at the wrist, its pallid skin stark against the crimson-streaked fabric. The fingers were stiff, curled slightly as if caught mid-movement, while darkened veins traced eerie patterns beneath the surface.

But it was the signet ring on one slack finger that sent a slow, ice-cold dread through your bones. You recognized it instantly. The man who had worn it had taken you to a dinner date just days ago.

Far away in his sprawling mansion, Bangchan leaned back in his chair, watching your reaction through the hidden cameras he had meticulously planted in your home. A twisted smirk played on his lips as he rolled up his blood-splattered sleeves with calculated ease, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Reaching for his phone, he tapped the screen with deliberate precision, his long fingers moving with unsettling calm.

Your phone buzzed on the table, shattering the uneasy silence. The screen lit up, revealing a single message from an untraceable number.

Unknown: “Enjoying the gift?”