Midnight arrived wearing gloves.
Somewhere in the quiet suburb a boy stood outside a modest house, rain dripping from his hood, practicing the same calm smile he'd rehearsed in the bathroom mirror for weeks.
Inside, the doorbell chimed—bright, ordinary, cheerful.
Aosara padded down the hall in socks, heart lifting because she thought it was her mother finally home.
She opened the door smiling.
The boy from school stood there.
Same face she passed in hallways.
Same quiet boy everyone said had a crush on her.
Only now his smile felt different—too still, too perfect, like something photographed and pasted on.
"Oh… welcome," she said, voice catching on uncertainty. "What can I do for you?"
He asked to come in.
She stepped aside.
Politeness is a reflex that kills slowly.
"May I borrow your surgical kit?" he asked, stepping past her, already looking around like he knew where everything was.
She laughed—short, nervous. "I quit med school ages ago. I'm doing ICT now. No kit."
His head tilted. Eyes never left her.
"Oh," he said softly, "but you do have one. I can see it."
Before she could argue he walked straight to the kitchen. Drawer slid open with a metallic sigh.
He lifted the longest kitchen knife between two fingers, turning it so the overhead light ran along the edge like liquid silver.
"Here it is."
Fear hit her like cold water poured down her spine.
She backed up. "That's not— that's not surgical."
He stepped closer, reciting in the same dreamy half-voice:
"Do you remember the story from Nyoung's book? The one about the girl who opened the door for the wrong shadow?"
The knife rose.
Her scream never made it out.
The blade found the soft place below her ribs like it had been measured for it.
Tears spilled before the pain caught up.
She fell backward, spine striking the table edge with a wet crack.
Her body slid to the floor in slow motion, one hand reaching uselessly for the phone that had fallen just out of reach.
The room went quiet except for the soft drip of rain against the window and the last shallow rasp of her breathing.
Dea7th Note
Ijr: