The night was bleeding rain.
Liza kept her head down, clutching her satchel tight as she hurried through the empty road. The streetlamps flickered above, casting fractured shadows on the wet pavement. Neon lights shimmered in puddles, turning the ground into broken mirrors. Her hair was drenched, her breath sharp in the cold wind, when she heard it—
a gunshot.
Loud. Close.
She froze.
Heart thudding, she turned toward the sound, but the alley was silent again—like the rain had swallowed everything. A chill ran down her spine.
I shouldn't be here.
Her instincts screamed at her to run. So she did.
She ran blindly, splashing through water, heels echoing against the silence. But then—
She skidded to a stop.
In front of her, like shadows carved out of the night, stood five men in black.
They didn't move.
Their faces were cold, unreadable. The rain soaked their coats, but none of them seemed to care.
"Wh-who—?" she started, breathless.
Before she could finish, one of them stepped forward.
"You didn't see anything tonight," the man said flatly. "Understand? Nothing. If you tell anyone, you die."
Her heart jumped to her throat.
"I—I didn't mean to— I was just walking— I swear I didn't see anything!"
She stumbled backward.
"Should I silence her, boss?"
The one who spoke didn't look at her. His eyes were trained somewhere behind her.
She followed his gaze.
From the shadows, a sixth man stepped forward.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Even through the downpour, he radiated command.
His black coat billowed in the wind, and his face—sharp, pale, and unreadable—remained in shadow. But his eyes...
They found hers and held them like a grip to the throat.
Dark. Calm. Deadly.
He said nothing. Only stared.
Liza's chest tightened. Something in his gaze made her limbs freeze. Not fear. Something else. Something colder. Deeper.
The man beside him asked again, voice quieter, "Sir, do I kill her?"
Still, the silent one said nothing.
Seconds passed.
Raindrops splattered between them. Thunder groaned in the distance.
And then—
A flick of his fingers.
"Let her go," the man beside him interpreted, lowering his weapon.
Liza blinked.
"What...?" she whispered.
The circle opened. No one touched her. But all of them watched as she turned and ran.
She didn't look back.
Didn't stop until she reached the next street. Didn't breathe until her apartment door slammed shut behind her.
---
That night, Liza barely slept.
She locked every window, every door, curled into a blanket, and told herself it was a dream. A nightmare. Nothing real.
But she could still see him.
That man.
The one who never said a word... but spared her.
And when morning came, she thought maybe—just maybe—it was over.
Until she opened her front door the next evening…
…And found a single black rose lying on her doormat.
With a note tucked beneath it:
> "You should be more careful walking in the rain."
— D
---
To be continued...