Something felt wrong.
Not loud.
Not visible.
Just there.
Heavy.
My sleep broke slowly, like something had dragged me out of it instead of waking me naturally.
For a second, my mind stayed blank.
Dark room.
Cold air.
Quiet.
Then—
that feeling again.
A gaze.
My breathing stopped for half a second.
Not imagined.
Real.
Heavy enough to press into my skin.
My eyes opened fully.
The room stayed dark except for the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains.
Everything looked normal.
Until I looked forward.
And froze.
Someone was sitting in front of my bed.
Still.
Silent.
Covered entirely in black.
A dark helmet hid his face completely, the surface catching only faint pieces of moonlight from the window.
No eyes visible.
No expression.
Just that presence.
Watching me.
For a moment, my body forgot how to react.
My chest tightened sharply as my eyes locked onto the figure sitting motionless in the darkness.
Him.
My breath caught instantly.
The same presence.
The same gaze I hadn't felt since that evening walk.
But now—
closer.
Much closer.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't even tell how long he had been there watching me sleep.
The thought alone sent something cold down my spine.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Too quiet.
Even Zen wasn't moving.
The stranger stayed exactly where he was, one arm resting lazily against the chair while that dark helmet remained turned toward me like he had no intention of looking away.
No movement.
No sound.
And somehow—
that made everything worse.
The silence didn't break.
It deepened.
The figure stayed exactly where he was, the dark helmet hiding everything beneath it while that invisible gaze remained locked onto me.
Watching.
Not casually.
Intensely.
My chest rose slowly as I forced myself to breathe normally again, but something about the atmosphere made it difficult.
The room no longer felt like mine.
It felt occupied.
Claimed.
A faint sound came from outside—
wind brushing against the trees—
cars moving somewhere far away—
But inside this room—
nothing moved.
Not him.
Not me.
Even Zen remained unusually still at the edge of the bed, ears lowered slightly as if he could feel the tension pressing through the darkness too.
The stranger leaned back slowly in the chair, one gloved hand resting against the armrest.
Relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Like breaking into my room in the middle of the night was normal for him.
Like watching me sleep was normal too.
The thought sent something cold down my spine.
My fingers curled tighter into the sheets.
"…How did you get in here?"
No answer.
Not immediately.
The helmet tilted slightly instead.
Studying me.
A long pause followed before his voice finally cut through the darkness.
Low.
Controlled.
"…You smell like other people."
My breath stopped for a second.
The words were quiet.
But something about them felt deeply wrong.
Possessive.
Not jealousy spoken openly—
something colder than that.
The stranger leaned forward slightly now, elbows resting loosely against his knees.
Closer.
My chest tightened instinctively.
"I don't like it."
A chill ran sharply down my spine.
The room suddenly felt smaller than before.
I forced myself to speak despite the pressure building in the air around us.
"…You're insane."
Silence.
Then—
a soft sound escaped him.
Not laughter.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
"Still letting people touch you so easily."
Kevin suddenly flashed through my mind.
Loverboy too.
The stranger's head tilted slightly again, like he had already seen every reaction crossing my face beneath the darkness.
"You never learn."
The words settled heavily into the room.
Not sounding like a threat.
Sounding like experience.
My heartbeat felt louder now.
Too loud.
The stranger stayed leaning forward slightly, black gloves resting loosely together while that unreadable helmet remained turned toward me.
Waiting.
Like he already knew what I would say next.
I swallowed slowly, forcing tension out of my voice.
"…Get out."
The words sounded weaker than I wanted.
A pause followed.
Then—
he stood up.
Slowly.
The movement instantly changed the atmosphere inside the room.
Too tall.
Too close now.
Instinctively, my body tensed as he stepped toward the bed without hesitation.
One step.
Then another.
Steady.
Controlled.
The floor creaked softly beneath his boots.
My breathing became uneven before I could stop it.
He stopped near the edge of the bed.
Close enough now that I could see faint scratches across the dark surface of the helmet beneath the moonlight.
Close enough to feel his presence pressing into the air around me again.
Heavy.
My fingers tightened against the sheets.
"…I said leave."
This time, firmer.
Still—
he didn't move away.
Instead, his head lowered slightly toward me.
Not enough to touch.
Enough to invade my space.
"Tell your loud little friends," he said quietly, "to stop touching what doesn't belong to them."
My chest tightened instantly.
Something about those words hit too hard.
Not because of anger.
Because deep down—
some part of me reacted to them.
Like they sounded familiar.
Wrongly familiar.
I frowned sharply.
"…What the hell is wrong with you?"
A pause.
Then—
his gloved hand lifted slowly toward me.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant either.
Certain.
My body stiffened immediately as his fingers stopped near my throat without touching it.
A dangerous kind of closeness.
"You let them stay beside you."
Low.
Cold.
"But the moment I disappear for a while…"
His hand moved slightly higher—
almost touching my jaw now.
"…you forget me that easily."
My breath caught.
Forget?
The word echoed sharply inside my head.
Before I could speak again—
he said something else.
And the moment the words left him—
my blood ran cold.
"…Eight years."
The words fell quietly into the darkness.
But they hit harder than anything else tonight.
My body froze instantly.
The room suddenly felt colder.
My eyes locked onto him as my heartbeat turned uneven inside my chest.
Eight years.
My throat tightened sharply.
Only one person connected to that number existed in my mind.
Him.
That person.
The one who disappeared without a trace.
The one I had searched for.
The one I wanted to find again—
even if it was only for revenge.
A faint ringing filled my ears.
No.
No way.
My breathing became heavier as memories flashed through my head too quickly to understand properly.
Rain.
Blood.
A cold stare.
Someone grabbing my wrist hard enough to hurt.
Then darkness again.
Gone before I could catch it fully.
The stranger stayed silent, watching every small reaction from behind that black helmet.
Like he had expected this.
Like he had been waiting for it.
"…You—"
The word barely left my mouth.
My chest suddenly tightened painfully.
Too fast.
Too much at once.
The room tilted slightly around me.
My vision blurred for half a second before stabilizing again.
The stranger stepped closer immediately.
One hand caught my wrist before I could lose balance completely.
Firm.
Cold.
And somehow—
familiar.
"Careful."
His voice lowered further now, almost near my ear.
"You were always weak when your memories started returning."
A sharp chill ran through me.
Returning?
The word shattered whatever calm I still had left.
I pulled sharply against his grip despite the dizziness hitting me harder now.
"…Who are you?"
Silence followed.
Then—
for the first time tonight—
the stranger's grip tightened slightly around my wrist.
Possessive.
Almost angry.
"You really don't remember me."
The words settled heavily between us.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Worse.
Because some part of me felt the truth inside them.
My breathing became uneven again as I stared at the dark helmet hiding his face completely.
I should have pushed him away.
Should have called Kevin.
Done something.
But my body refused to move properly under the pressure filling the room.
That grip around my wrist felt terrifyingly familiar now.
Not new.
Remembered.
My chest tightened painfully.
"…Take that helmet off."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
A long silence followed.
The stranger didn't answer immediately.
His thumb brushed slowly against my wrist once—
a small movement—
but enough to send chills sharply through me.
Dangerous.
Intimate.
Wrong.
"You're not ready for that yet."
Low.
Certain.
Something inside me snapped slightly at his calmness.
"…Stop talking like you know me."
This time my voice came out harsher.
Angrier.
"Breaking into my room in the middle of the night, acting insane, saying things that don't make any sense—"
"You searched for me."
The words cut directly through mine.
Instant silence.
My breath stopped.
The stranger slowly leaned closer again until the dark surface of the helmet was only inches away from me.
"You looked for me for eight years."
Every word felt deliberate.
Controlled.
"You wanted it so badly…"
A pause.
"…and now you can't even recognize me."
My chest felt like it physically dropped.
No.
Impossible.
My mind instantly rejected it, but my body reacted differently.
Because deep down—
something already knew.
A violent headache suddenly hit me.
Sharp.
My hand instinctively moved toward my head as broken images flashed rapidly behind my eyes.
Rain pouring heavily.
Someone pinning me against a wall.
Blood on knuckles.
That same voice near my ear—
cold—
furious—
"Don't look at anyone else."
I gasped sharply as the memory vanished instantly.
The stranger's grip on my wrist tightened again.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to ground me.
"…There you are."
His voice softened slightly for the first time tonight.
And somehow—
that terrified me more than anything else.
My breathing turned uneven again as the pain behind my eyes slowly faded.
But the feeling stayed.
That voice.
Those words.
That presence.
Too familiar now.
I pulled my wrist back harder this time, finally breaking free from his grip before immediately moving away across the bed.
Distance.
I needed distance.
"What the hell do you want from me?"
The question came out sharper than before, but my voice still betrayed me slightly.
Because fear wasn't the only thing inside me anymore.
And that scared me more.
The stranger stayed standing near the bed without moving closer again.
Watching.
Always watching.
The moonlight reflected faintly against the dark helmet as silence filled the room once more.
Then—
"You."
One word.
Simple.
But the way he said it made my chest tighten instantly.
Not obsession spoken carelessly.
Something deeper.
Something that sounded old.
Like this had already been decided long before tonight.
I shook my head immediately.
"No."
My fingers curled tightly into the blanket beneath me.
"You don't get to appear after eight years and act like I belong to you."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Subtly.
Dangerously.
The stranger became still again.
Too still.
Then slowly—
he tilted his head slightly.
"…Belong?"
Low.
Almost thoughtful.
"You think that's the problem here?"
A chill ran sharply through me again.
Before I could respond, he took another slow step closer to the bed.
Controlled.
"No, Kai."
The way he said my name felt wrong.
Too intimate.
Too familiar.
"You belonged to me long before you started hating me."
My heartbeat stopped for a second.
Then slammed painfully against my chest.
The room suddenly felt suffocating.
Because somewhere deep inside me—
something remembered hearing those words before.