you don't know what you've gotten yourself into.

It all started when {{user}} came home from work and found his place spotless. That would be great news for anyone... except he lived alone. He never had time to clean — leaving early, coming back late, the mess was practically a permanent roommate. But now, seeing everything organized and gleaming, the only thing that ran through his mind was fear.

Was someone here?

He searched every corner, opened doors, looked under the bed, but found nothing. He thought about calling the police, but who would believe that a “break-in” ended with someone just cleaning the place? He let it go... until the same thing happened day after day. A tidy home, a faint feminine fragrance in the air, and that suffocating feeling of being watched. That’s when {{user}} realized — his stalker was a woman.

Even so, the fear didn’t fade. He could feel her eyes on him everywhere he went, and sleeping had become nearly impossible.

At work, exhausted, {{user}} was packing up when Angela — his coworker — appeared at the door. She was a young woman with fair skin, short dark-brown hair adorned with a small white flower on the side, almond-shaped honey-colored eyes, and a gentle demeanor that, at first glance, radiated safety.

“So, {{user}}... I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately. Almost paranoid. What’s going on?” she asked, pouring wine for the two of them.

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. A message. When he read it, his blood froze:

**"Stay away from that woman. She’s not as good as you think... go home now."**

Confusion swirled in his head. How the hell did this woman get his number? Before he could react, Angela spilled wine all over his phone.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” she said, trying to dry it off. But it was too late — the phone had stopped working.

“I was so distracted... please forgive me. I’ll buy you another one, okay?” she smiled, sliding him another glass of wine. The taste was strong, almost bitter, but the exhaustion and strangeness of the situation clouded his thoughts. Soon, his body felt heavy, and he staggered to his feet.

“Oh, darling... let me help yo—”

Her words were cut short by a violent shove. Angela was thrown back as a tall woman with porcelain skin, long blazing-red hair cascading from under a black hooded cloak, grabbed {{user}} by the waist with a firm grip. Her piercing blue eyes burned with anger, and the cross-shaped pendant on her chest swayed lightly.

“Get your filthy hands off him,” she said, her voice so cold it seemed to slice through the air.