The scent of stale pizza and unwashed laundry was the official perfume of apartment 2B. It was a scent Leo had grown accustomed to, a testament to the chaotic harmony of life with his two roommates, Sam and Mike. Sam, the pragmatic engineering student, was usually buried in textbooks, while Mike, the life of a party that was only ever in his own head, was usually trying to charm his reflection in the toaster. Leo, an art student, was the quiet observer, the one who chronicled their mundane lives in his sketchbook.
Their predictable world tilted on its axis the day apartment 2A got a new tenant.
Leo was the first to see her. He was on their small balcony, trying to capture the melancholy of a dying potted plant, when the moving van pulled up. Out of the driver's side stepped a girl who didn't seem to belong in their drab, concrete world. She was dressed entirely in black—tight pants, a worn leather jacket over a lace top, and heavy combat boots that looked like they had stomped through centuries. Her hair was a cascade of midnight black, and her skin was so pale it seemed to almost glow in the afternoon sun. She moved with a liquid grace, a predator in a world of pigeons.
"Whoa," Mike said, appearing at Leo's shoulder, a slice of cold pizza in hand. "New neighbor. Dibs."
Sam glanced up from his laptop just inside the sliding door. "She looks like she eats people like you for breakfast, Mike."
"My favorite kind," Mike grinned, undeterred.
But Leo was silent. He wasn't just attracted to her; he was utterly captivated. She was like a character from one of the dark fantasy novels he read—a tragic queen, a mysterious sorceress. He felt an inexplicable pull, a dangerous curiosity that hummed in his veins.
In the days that followed, Leo's fascination only deepened. Her name, he learned from the mailbox, was Elara. He never saw her bring in groceries. He never heard a sound from her apartment—no TV, no music, not even a footstep. Her blinds were perpetually drawn during the day, but sometimes, late at night, he'd see a sliver of crimson light from beneath her door.
Then the news reports started. A hiker found dead on the town's outskirts. Then a homeless man under the old bridge. The details were sparse and unsettling. The victims were found with no signs of a struggle, but they had been… drained. The local police, baffled, warned residents about a possible wild animal attack.
Leo's mind, however, kept drifting to the silent, nocturnal woman in 2A. He saw her one evening, standing on her balcony as a storm rolled in. For a fleeting second, as lightning split the sky, he thought he saw her eyes flash with a predatory, silver light. He blinked, and she was gone, the space she occupied empty, as if she had dissolved into the shadows. He was starting to think he was losing his mind.
A week later, walking home from a late class, his mind was a storm of these thoughts. Was he crazy? Was he stereotyping the goth girl next door? He was so lost in his internal debate, replaying the flicker of her silver eyes, that he didn't notice the world around him. He didn't hear the warnings of the crosswalk signal or the distant rumble that was rapidly growing louder.
He stepped off the curb, his gaze fixed on the cracked pavement, his phone held loosely in his hand.
The world erupted in a cacophony of screeching tires and a deafening horn blast.
Leo's head snapped up. Blinding headlights flooded his vision, the grille of a massive truck filling his entire world. Time seemed to stretch and slow. He could see the panicked face of the driver, the rain-slicked asphalt, his own life flashing before his eyes in a pathetic, mundane slideshow. This was it. He was about to be 'isekai'd' into a fantasy world, or more likely, just a red smear on the road. He squeezed his eyes shut.
There was no impact.
No crunch of bone or screech of metal.
Instead, he felt a violent, wrenching tug. The world became a nauseating blur of color and wind. The roar of the truck's engine was suddenly distant, replaced by the sound of his own heart hammering against his ribs.
He was standing on the sidewalk again, stumbling, his feet tangled beneath him. He would have fallen if not for the iron-tight grip on the collar of his jacket, holding him up.
He looked up, gasping for breath, into the impossibly pale face of Elara. She was holding him with one hand, her expression not one of concern or relief, but of profound annoyance. Raindrops clung to her dark lashes, and her silver eyes, no longer a trick of the light, bored into him with cold intensity.
Leo's mind struggled to catch up. He was just there, in the middle of the road. Seconds from death. Now he was here. How? How did she move that fast? He hadn't even seen her.
"What…" he stammered, his voice a dry whisper. "How did you…?"
Elara gave him a slight shake, her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. "Try not to get yourself killed on my watch," she said, her voice a low, melodic hum that sent a shiver down his spine. "It's… inconvenient."
She released him abruptly, and he staggered back against a lamppost. The truck, having swerved to a stop, was now thundering away, its driver likely thanking every god he knew. But Leo didn't watch it go. He could only stare at Elara, at the impossible girl who had just broken the laws of physics to save his life, and looked bored while doing it.
He didn't know what had happened. But as he looked into her ancient, stormy eyes, he knew one thing for certain: the weird things he'd noticed weren't in his head, and the murders in their small town suddenly felt terrifyingly close to home.