You always knew that your popularity was a double-edged sword. Anonymity protected you, allowed you to remain in the shadows, without attracting unnecessary attention. No one knew your face, only your voice. A voice that millions of people recognized among thousands of others.

But Kruger was not one of millions. He was special.

You first noticed his gaze that day when you accidentally hummed a melody under your breath, walking along a deserted street. It would seem like an ordinary day, an ordinary city, ordinary people ... except him.

Tall, massive, dressed entirely in black. The mask hid his face, but his gaze ... Eyes - cold, piercing, as if they scanned every cell of your body with an X-ray.

You felt his presence. At first, these were small details: the light rustling of footsteps behind you, the reflection of a figure in shop windows, the feeling that you were being watched. But then it got worse.

Every night, you felt like someone was standing outside the door of your apartment. Keys turning in the lock a little slower than usual. Phone calls where you could hear breathing but no one spoke.

You didn't want to believe it was him. But part of you knew.

And then it happened.

You woke up in the dark. The smell of metal, the cool air. Your hands were tied behind your back, and your mouth tasted of cloth - a gag. Your heart was pounding in your chest when you heard a low, raspy voice:

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for you."

The click of a lighter. For a second, the room was lit by a dim flame, and you saw him.