The last night in the hotel was uneventful, just Daniel and me staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until we could leave. I barely slept. Not because the bed was uncomfortable—I'd gotten used to that—but because my mind wouldn't stop racing.
We were really doing this. No more safety net, no more family mansion, no more luxurious meals prepared by chefs we never bothered to thank. It was just us now, and if we failed, we'd have no one to blame but ourselves.
By morning, we checked out without looking back. The hotel wasn't worth remembering.
The apartment, though… that was another story.
The moment we stepped inside, reality hit harder than I expected.
The place looked like a dumped site. Dust clung to every surface, cobwebs decorated the corners of the ceiling, and the air was thick with the scent of neglect. The small coffee table had stains I didn't want to question, and the wooden floor was covered in scratches like someone had dragged furniture across it for sport.
Daniel whistled low, dropping his bag onto the floor. "Well… it looked better in the dark."
I rubbed my temples. "We need to clean. Badly."
Three hours. That's how long it took.
We scrubbed the floors, wiped the windows, and aired out the rooms. Daniel complained the entire time, but I caught him humming at some point, so I knew he didn't mind that much.
By the time we finished, the place wasn't perfect, but it was livable.
Still, we had nothing to eat, no real furniture, and barely any cash left on hand.
That meant I had to do two things: get more money and buy groceries.
"I'm heading out," I told Daniel, grabbing my bag.
He was lying on the couch, arms folded behind his head. "Need me to come with?"
"I got it."
He gave me a lazy thumbs-up, and I left.
---
I took a cab to the bank, withdrawing a good chunk of cash. Not enough to wipe me clean, but enough to keep us afloat for the next few weeks.
When I stepped outside, I hesitated.
Something felt off.
Maybe it was the way the air had shifted, or maybe it was my own paranoia kicking in, but I had the distinct feeling of being watched.
I glanced around. Nothing. Just people walking by, too busy with their own lives to notice me.
Shaking it off, I headed to the grocery store.
It was a small place, not overly crowded, which I appreciated. I grabbed a basket and moved through the aisles, picking up the basics—bread, eggs, milk, instant noodles, a few vegetables, and some snacks I knew Daniel would demand the second I walked through the door.
I made my way to the cashier, setting my items down, when I felt it again.
That feeling.
Like I was standing in the presence of something—or someone—I shouldn't be.
Then I saw him.
A man stood at the register beside mine, placing his items on the counter.
But he wasn't just any man.
His aura was intense, like he carried a storm beneath his skin, barely contained. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes held a kind of authority that wasn't given but earned.
And yet…
In his hands were things that didn't match his presence at all.
A pack of colorful hair ties. A box of strawberry-flavored Pocky. A small stuffed bear.
Something about that contrast—his dangerous aura against the softness of his purchases—sent a strange chill down my spine.
Who was he?
And why did I feel like I was about to find out?