The car rolled to a gentle stop in the driveway of Taoko's modest suburban house. It was a peaceful summer night—crickets chirping softly in the warm air, a faint breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak tree out front, and the porch light casting a golden glow over the neatly trimmed lawn. Taoko parked in the garage, killed the engine, and stepped out with an easy smile. He circled to the passenger side and opened the door for Jaya.
"How sweet," she teased, arching an eyebrow as she climbed out.
"I'm always like this," he replied lightly, gesturing toward the front door. "After you."
They stepped inside. The house was spacious and surprisingly elegant for a single man—high ceilings, soft recessed lighting, polished hardwood floors, and the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. A large sectional couch faced a massive wall-mounted TV, and floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a quiet garden bathed in moonlight.
Jaya slipped off her shoes and padded across the living room. "Your place is way bigger than mine,"
she said, sinking into the plush couch with a contented sigh.
Taoko followed, hands in his pockets. "Want to watch something? I've got snacks, drinks… I could even whip up a heart-shaped fried egg if you're feeling romantic." A playful smirk tugged at his lips.
She laughed, mirroring his smirk. "You think a heart-shaped egg is going to impress me?"
He shrugged innocently and dimmed the main lights, leaving only the soft blue glow of the TV screen. "Get ready. I picked a horror movie."
Jaya rolled her eyes. "You think I'll get scared by some kiddie jumpscare fest? Bring it on."
"Fine. I'll grab snacks and drinks."
He disappeared into the open-plan kitchen.
Alone in the living room, Jaya stretched out on the couch, scrolling idly on her phone. The house felt calm, almost cocoon-like—distant traffic a faint hum, the refrigerator's soft whir the only other sound.
In the kitchen, Taoko arranged a bowl of popcorn, some chips, and two chilled bottles of soda on a tray. He opened one bottle quietly, reached into his pocket for a small white tablet, and held it over the rim.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind.
"Boo!" Jaya laughed, pressing her cheek against his back.
Taoko flinched—genuinely startled for a split second—then quickly palmed the tablet back into his pocket. He turned with a forced chuckle. "Damn, you got me good."
She grinned, still hugging him. "You jumped like a little kid."
"Yeah, yeah. Great prank." His smile stayed warm, but inside his thoughts were colder:
(Enjoy your fun while it lasts, sweetheart. Soon you'll be screaming for real—while I peel that pretty skin off inch by inch.)
He handed her the untainted bottle. "Here's your drink. Let's get back to the movie."
They settled on the couch, tray of snacks between them. Taoko sipped his soda slowly, munching popcorn with casual ease. He'd chosen The Ritual(note:this movie takes as an inspiration) a slow-burn folk horror film with creeping dread and grotesque creature reveals. At first, Jaya watched with confident boredom, occasionally teasing the characters on screen.
But as the forest scenes grew darker, the sound design more oppressive, and the monster finally lurked into view, her bravado cracked. During a particularly brutal jump scare, she yelped and instinctively grabbed Taoko's arm, burying her face against his shoulder.
"Turn it off," she muttered, voice small and shaky. "Please."
He paused the film at once, hiding a satisfied smile. "Okay, okay. Didn't mean to scare you that bad."
She exhaled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Why'd you even pick horror? Don't you have anything… lighter? Romantic? Slice-of-life?"
"I thought you'd like it," he said softly, almost apologetic. "I bought a bunch yesterday.
Didn't realize you'd get this scared."
Then his voice dropped, playful again. "But if you want something else… I could show you a different kind of show."
Jaya raised an eyebrow. "It better be good."
Taoko stood slowly in the center of the room, reached for the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. The soft lighting traced the lines of his body—lean, sculpted muscles from years of disciplined calisthenics: defined shoulders, carved abs, vascular forearms. He wasn't bulky, but every muscle looked sharp and functional.
Jaya's teasing expression froze into genuine surprise.
"I could demonstrate some moves," he said quietly, almost shyly.
He gripped the sturdy coffee table, flipped upside down into a perfect handstand, and began slow, controlled push-ups—body straight as a board, toes pointed. Then he lowered into an L-sit, holding it effortlessly for thirty seconds. Finally, he dropped to the floor and knocked out a set of one-arm push-ups on each side, breathing steady.
When he finished and stood, Jaya was staring openly. "Wow… I had no idea you were into calisthenics. That was incredible."
"Mind if I…?" She gestured toward his arm.
"Go ahead," he said with a gentle smile. "If you don't touch them, who will?"
She reached out, fingers tracing the hard ridge of his bicep, then his chest. The muscle felt warm, solid—like carved stone under smooth skin. She had pegged him as just a mild-mannered teacher, someone soft and ordinary. This was… unexpected.
"Oh—wait, I almost forgot something." He jogged upstairs, leaving her on the couch. A minute later he returned holding a delicate necklace woven from fresh white jasmine flowers, their petals still dewy.
"I made this for you earlier today," he said, offering it almost bashfully. "It's a little wilted now, but… I wanted you to have it."
Jaya took it carefully, turning it in her hands. The flowers were arranged in perfect loops, tied with thin red thread. "You really made this? For me?"
"Of course. You deserve nice things."
Her heart softened. They'd only met a few days ago—casual chats at the café where she worked, light flirting—but this felt thoughtful, intimate. No one had ever made her something by hand.
"It's beautiful. You didn't have to do anything this special."
"For you?" He smiled warmly. "I'd make a hundred more if you wanted."
She laughed softly, touched, and slipped the necklace over her head. The jasmine scent was strong—sweet, heady, intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, then swayed slightly.
"Whoa… suddenly feel really dizzy," she murmured, blinking. "Mind if I lie down?"
"Of course. If you can't walk, I'll carry you."
"That… might be best," she admitted, eyelids drooping.
Taoko scooped her up easily—bridal style—and carried her upstairs. His bedroom was serene: soft lamplight, crisp white sheets, a faint breeze from the cracked window stirring the curtains. He laid her gently on the bed, pulled a light blanket over her, and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"Sleep well," he whispered.
Jaya was already drifting, the jasmine's hidden sedative working quickly through her skin and lungs. Within moments her breathing deepened into unconsciousness.
The house fell perfectly silent. No screams. No struggle. Just the peaceful ticking of a wall clock and the distant song of night insects.
Downstairs, at 2:00 a.m., the kitchen light glowed softly.
Taoko stood at the counter in a clean apron, humming a gentle lullaby as he worked. On the cutting board lay neat portions of pale, fresh meat—still faintly warm.
Beside it, a large stainless-steel pot simmered on the stove, rich broth bubbling quietly. Floating in the broth was a clean human skull, eye sockets empty, jaw removed, the bone gleaming white.
He tasted the broth with a wooden spoon, eyes half-closed in appreciation.
"Mmm… perfect seasoning," he murmured to himself, voice calm and content. "And the skull pot is coming along beautifully."
He added a pinch of herbs, stirred once more, then turned the heat to low.
Outside, the summer night remained utterly tranquil—stars bright, moon full, breeze gentle. Inside, everything was orderly, peaceful, and exactly as he liked it.
Tomorrow would be another quiet day.