The changing room curtain pulls back with a quiet shuffle. Ren steps out first, composed as ever, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. His posture is rigid, movements calculated. Behind him, Aiko emerges a few steps later, adjusting her hair, eyes flickering toward the mall floor like nothing's amiss. The air is heavy with something unspoken.
The young employee standing nearby straightens with a jolt, clearly having waited to inspect the stall. Her lips part, maybe to ask if everything's alright—but her gaze lands on Ren's face.
And that's enough.
That cold, elegant sharpness in his eyes. The way his presence commands silence. She swallows her questions and bows slightly, stepping aside without a word.
Ren tilts his head politely at her, like a wolf in gentleman's clothing, and walks ahead with long strides. Aiko follows him, the corner of her lips twitching—part amusement, part triumph.
Ren slips behind the wheel, setting the bags in the backseat. The doors click shut. Aiko stretches, tilting her head lazily toward him as he starts the engine. The mall lights blur behind them, replaced by dusky amber streets and quiet city life winding down.
Ren glances at the rearview mirror, then at her reflection in the glass window.
"You bought so many things, I was about to get broke," he says with a playful lilt, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his knee.
Aiko scoffs, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
"It's not a lot… geez," she mutters, crossing her arms, nose in the air like royalty accused of being a thief.
Ren laughs, low and real, his eyes briefly softening.
"Mm. Not a lot, she says," he muses. "You know how many stores we went to, princess?"
"Five," she answers too quickly.
"Seven," he corrects, grinning as he turns the wheel.
She doesn't argue. Instead, she leans back, basking in the peace of their shared silence. The car hums along the road, streetlights blurring into gold streaks.
---
Later That Night
Ren carries the bags into her room, carefully setting them onto her bed, arranging them with a precision most wouldn't bother with. Shirts neatly folded, boxes aligned.
He doesn't linger. His hand brushes against the soft fabric of a new dress, but he turns to leave.
"I'll go prepare dinner," he says over his shoulder. "You try on the clothes, princess."
But he stops.
Aiko's fingers have curled around his wrist.
He looks down.
Her hand is delicate, but the grip is sure.
"What's wrong, princess?" he asks, smoothly. The charming mask slides back into place. "You try on the clothes—I'll go and…"
He pauses. Her grip tightens.
He turns to face her fully now.
"Stay," she whispers. Her eyes are lowered, almost shyly. "Watch me dressing."
Silence.
It's a soft command wrapped in innocence. But it hits him like a thunderclap.
Ren's smile dies slowly, replaced by something darker, more primal.
His breathing shifts, no longer steady. His hand twitches in her grip.
She's doing it again.
Calling out the monster.
He steps closer, gently pulling her hand away from his wrist, but not letting go. His other hand rises to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You always know how to wake the beast, don't you, Aiko?" he murmurs, voice low and reverent—like he's standing before something holy and cursed.
Her gaze meets his.
She doesn't answer.
She doesn't have to.
---
A Week Later,
The sun is high, and the school bell rings like a melody announcing freedom. Students flood the gates, chatting, laughing, scattering like birds.
Aiko stands alone, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the road.
Ren is late.
She leans against a pole, tapping her foot. Ten minutes pass. She checks her phone. No message.
"He's never late," she mutters.
She waits another five minutes before deciding to walk. Her house isn't far—maybe she'll meet him on the way.
The streets are quiet, save for the rustle of wind and the occasional bark of a dog behind distant fences.
Her steps slow with time. The sky has dimmed slightly with a passing cloud.
Then a car pulls up beside her.
Sleek. Dark windows. Too quiet.
The window rolls down smoothly, and a man inside smiles politely. He holds up a small card.
"Hey, kid. Do you know this address?" he asks, voice casual.
Aiko frowns, stepping closer to peer at it. Something feels… off. She squints.
The card is blank.
Her brows furrow.
"It's—" she begins.
But too late.
Another figure emerges from behind her—she doesn't hear him coming.
A white cloth presses against her mouth and nose. The scent is sharp—chemicals. Chloroform.
Her eyes widen in alarm, hands scrambling to fight—but her limbs grow heavy.
The world tilts. Her vision blurs. The man with the card lowers it, now smiling wider.
"Got her."
Her bag falls to the ground with a dull thud.
She slumps into the arms of the one behind her, already unconscious.
The car door swings open.
They drag her inside like a broken doll and shut the door.
Tires screech softly against the pavement.
And just like that, Aiko Himura disappears into the shadows.