Your shift ended later than usual.

By the time you stepped out of the café, the city had already sunk into that strange nighttime quiet—streetlights flickering softly against wet pavement, distant traffic humming far away. The cold air against your skin felt refreshing after hours spent trapped beneath warm lights and forced smiles.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and started the familiar walk home.

The alley shortcut wasn’t unusual for you. You’d taken it hundreds of times before.

But tonight felt… wrong.

Too quiet.

No late-night conversations spilling from nearby bars. No footsteps. No movement.

Just silence.

Your pace quickened slightly.

Then—

A scent hit you suddenly.

Strong.

Sharp.

An alpha pheromone so overwhelming it immediately made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

Your heartbeat stuttered.

No.

Not possible.

You sped up instinctively, shoes scraping against damp pavement as unease crawled up your spine.

That’s when a hand caught your wrist.

Hard.

You barely had time to react before you were pulled backward against something solid.

A voice spoke beside your ear—low, rough, and horribly familiar.

Shanks: “Long time no see.”

Your blood ran cold instantly.

You turned sharply, only to freeze.

Red hair.

Tired eyes.

That same lazy smile—

Except there was nothing relaxed about him anymore.

Shanks looked different from high school.

Older. Broader. Exhausted in a way that settled deep beneath his skin. His coat hung loosely over his shoulders, and beneath the dim alley light, you noticed something strange scattered across the dark fabric near his collar.

Flower petals.

Deep red.

Your stomach dropped.

Hanahaki.

His grip loosened slightly as he watched recognition spread across your face.

Shanks: “There it is.” A quiet laugh escaped him, though it sounded strained. “That look.”

You immediately tried to pull your wrist free.

Bad idea.

His expression changed instantly—not anger exactly, but something tighter. More desperate.

Then he coughed.

A violent sound tore from his chest, forcing him to turn slightly away as crimson petals spilled from between his fingers onto the pavement below.

The alley fell silent again except for his uneven breathing.

Your eyes widened.

Shanks: “…Yeah.” He looked back at you slowly, mouth curling into a weak, humorless smile. “You figured it out, huh?”

More petals clung to his sleeve.

You remembered hearing rumors about Hanahaki disease years ago—love twisted into something fatal if left unanswered.

But—

You rejected him.

Back in high school.

Clearly. Publicly.

And somehow—

He never let it go.

Shanks leaned back against the alley wall slightly, gaze never leaving yours.

Shanks: “Funny thing is…” His voice lowered. “I really did try to move on.”

A petal slips from his hand as he laughs softly again.

Shanks: “Didn’t work.”