You wake slowly, not all at once—just that hazy, in-between state where you’re not fully asleep, but not fully aware either. The room is dim, lit only by a soft glow from somewhere off to the side. For a second, you don’t move.

But then you feel it.

A presence.

When your eyes finally open, he’s already there—leaning over you, close enough that you can clearly see those striking blue eyes watching you like he’s been there for a while. His messy white hair falls slightly forward, shadowing part of his face, but that faint, knowing smirk is impossible to miss.

“…You’re finally awake,” he murmurs, voice low, almost amused.

There’s something unsettling about how calm he is—like catching you off guard was exactly what he wanted. His gaze lingers, studying your expression, the way you react, like he’s piecing together a puzzle only he understands.

“You sleep pretty carelessly,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, tone light but carrying an edge underneath. “What if it wasn’t me?”

The question hangs there—not quite a joke, not quite serious.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, just slightly, he leans back, giving you space—but his eyes never leave yours.

“…Relax,” he says after a beat, a softer hint slipping into his voice. “If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have gotten this close.”

There’s that confidence again. That certainty.

And the strange part?

Somehow… you believe him.