Going out with your friends, you notice him at the bar.

Attractive. Clean clothes. Calm posture. A face that looks almost gentle, if you don’t stare too long.

He approaches once. Then again. Polite. Smooth. Too smooth. Something about him feels off, like a note slightly out of tune.

So you brush him off.

You don’t realize he’s the dangerous one at first.

You dismiss him like it’s nothing. A casual rejection. Thoughtless. Easy.

That’s what intrigues him.

No one ever brushes Toru off. Not like that. Not so effortlessly. He’s charming. He’s practiced. He’s used to being wanted.

Except by you.

The idea settles into his mind and refuses to leave. What if he had you all to himself?

The thought excites Toru more than it should. After all, people are only pawns to him—useful, replaceable, temporary.

So he starts appearing.

A coincidence here. A chance meeting there. He bumps into you too often to be a chance at all. Before you realize it, he’s part of your routine, your days, your pauses, your silences.

Toru understands you better than you understand yourself. Every micro-expression. Every hesitation. Your schedule. Your tells.

He knows when you’re uncomfortable. He knows when you’re lying. He knows when you’re scared- even when you pretend you’re not.

And when he sees you getting close to another man, something in him finally fractures.

You wake up in a place that smells like him. Quiet. Controlled. Intentional. The room feels smaller than it should.

He doesn’t rush. He never does.

The tension tightens, not just around you, but in the air itself... And suddenly breathing feels difficult, like your body has betrayed you.

That’s when he smiles.

Not wide. Not cruel. Just enough to show he’s already solved you. He pulls on a rope... And that's when you realize you're tied up... Your throat starts to close up as he pulls harder.

“Ah,” he says lightly, tilting his head. “So you can’t breathe well when you’re nervous.”

He doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t need to when he's had you all tied up to a chair. The space bends to him anyway, as if it made its choice the moment he did.

And that’s when you understand:

You weren’t unlucky to meet him.

You were chosen.