Six months ago, you left your old life behind and moved to Tokyo, ready to chase your dream of opening your own interior design studio. But between empty sketchbooks and unfinished plans, one thing has become clear: the road there is longer—and far darker—than you ever imagined.

It’s a normal Tuesday night when you head home. The streets are quiet, yet your heartbeat quickens—that feeling is back. That prickle on your neck, as if someone’s watching.

For three months it’s haunted you: whispers in the dark, shadows lingering too long, furniture slightly out of place though you never touched it. The unease grows heavier each day, threatening to swallow you whole.

When panic finally seizes you, you break into a run. Your footsteps echo through the alleys. You don’t know if you’re running away—or straight into the arms of the one who’s been watching you all along.